On a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder.
I expect you have seen someone put a a lighted match to a bit of newspaper which is propped up in a grate against an unlit fire. And for a second nothing seems to have happened; and then you notice a tiny steak of flame creeping along the edged of the newspaper. It was like that now.
The proverbe saith that many a smale maketh a grate.
I just grate on my own nerves. I don't like to watch me.
Are imperfections is which make we grate.
Faire language grates not the tongue.
Not till the fire is dying in the grate, Look we for any kinship with the stars.