Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, Their lot forbade nor circumscrib'd alone. The struggling pangs of conscious Truth to hide, With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet ev❜n these bones from insult to protect With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse, And many a holy text around she strews, For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Some kindred spirits shall inquire thy fate Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove; Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn, Or craz❜d with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. 'One morn I miss'd him on th' accustom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree: Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he: "The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne, Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.' The Epitaph. HERE rests his head upon the lap of earth Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere ; He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. No further seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose) The bosom of his Father and his God. Gray. ELEGY ON THE UNTIMELY DEATH OF A CERTAIN Ir proud Pygmalion quit his cumbrous frame, When humbler Alcon leaves his drooping friends, He little knew the sly penurious art, [know; He little knew to ward the secret wound; Ye sons of wealth! protect the Muses' train: He lov'd a nymph; amidst his slender store His nymph was fair! the sweetest bud that blows Sweet bird! enamour'd of the sweetest flower. He lov'd the Muse; she taught him to complain; She guides the foot that treads on Parian floors; She wins the ear when formal pleas are vain; She tempts patricians from the fatal doors Of Vice's brothel forth to virtue's fare. He wish'd for wealth, for much he wish'd to give; He griev'd that virtue might not wealth obtain: Piteous of woes, and hopeless to relieve, The pensive prospect sadden'd all his strain. I saw him faint! I saw him sink to rest! I saw his bier ignobly cross the plain; Saw peasant hands the pious rite supply: The generous rustics mourn'd the friendly swain, But Pow'r and Wealth's unvarying cheek was dry! Such Alcon fell; in meagre want forlorn! [where? Where were ye then, ye powerful patrons! Would ye the purple should your limbs adorn, Go wash the conscious blemish with a tear. Shenstone |