But their strong nerves at last must yield;
They tame but one another still.1
Early or late,

They stoop to fate,

And must give up their murmuring breath,
When they, pale captives, creep to Death.

The garlands wither on your brow:

Then boast no more your mighty deeds!
Upon Death's purple altar now

See where the victor-victim bleeds!
Your heads must come

To the cold tomb;

Only the actions of the just

Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust.

Shirley.

HELVELLYN.2

I CLIMBED the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn,
Lakes and mountains beneath me gleamed misty and wide;
All was still, save by fits, when the eagle was yelling,
And, starting, around me the echoes replied.

On the right, Striden-edge round the Red-tarns was bending,
And Cathedicam its left verge was defending,

One huge nameless rock in the front was impending,

When I marked the sad spot where the wanderer4 had died.

Dark green was that spot 'mid the brown mountain heather,
Where the pilgrim5 of nature lay stretched in decay,
Like the corpse of an outcast abandoned to weather,
Till the mountain winds wasted the tenantless clay:

(1) Tame, &c.-but cannot tame the great conqueror, Death.

(2) Helvellyn—A lofty mountain in Cumberland. Striden-edge and Cathedicam are parts of it.

(3) Red-tarn-a "tarn" is a small lake high up in the bosom of a mountain. (4) Wanderer-Mr. Charles Gough, of Manchester, perished in the spring of 1805, by losing his way over the mountain Helvellyn.

(5) Pilgrim-from the Italian pellegrino, which is from the Latin peregrinus, i. e. one who goes about per agrum—through the country. Hence, originally, a pilgrim was, generally, a wanderer, a traveller; then, one who travelled with a devotional purpose to some sacred spot. A "pilgrim of nature," therefore, is one who visits the shrines, i. e. the choice beauties and sublimities, of nature.

Nor yet quite deserted though lonely extended,
For, faithful in death, his mute favourite1 attended,
The much-loved remains of her master defended,
And chased the hill-fox and the raven away.

How long didst thou think that his silence was slumber?
When the wind waved his garment, how oft didst thou start?
How many long days and long nights didst thou number,
Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart?
And oh! was it meet that no requiem2 read o'er him,
No mother to weep, and no friend to deplore him,
And thou, little guardian, alone stretched before him—
Unhonoured the pilgrim from life should depart?

When a prince to the fate of a peasant has yielded,
The tapestry waves dark round the dim-lighted hall;
With scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded,
And pages stand mute by the canopied pall;

Through the courts, at deep midnight, the torches are gleaming,
In the proudly-arched chapel the banners are beaming,
Far adown the long aisle sacred music is streaming,
Lamenting a chief of the people should fall.

But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature,

To lay down thy head, like the meek mountain lamb,
When 'wildered, he drops from some cliff high in stature,
And draws his last sob by the side of his dam;

And more stately thy couch by this desert lake lying,
Thy obsequies sung by the gay plover flying,
With one faithful friend but to witness thy dying,
In the arms of Helvellyn and Cathedicam.

Walter Scott.

(1) Mute favourite—a terrier, which for three months guarded the dead body of her master.

(2) Requiem-from the Latin requies, rest-strictly a mass for the dead, which begins with the words "Requiem æternam." It is used here with some latitude for, funeral service.

(3) Scutcheon-from the Latin scutum, shield-originally the actual shield worn in battle, on which, for the sake of distinction, various devices were engraven; hence it signifies any field or ground on which are blazoned the armorial bearings of a family.

(4) Desert-for deserted, lonely.

(5) Obsequies-funeral-A common interment is a funeral: obsequies are pompous funeral ceremonies, with processions, &c. To "sing obsequies" is scarcely a correct expression, even allowing for poetic licence.

ELEGY

WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD.

THE Curfew2 tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,s
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness4 and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,5
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

Save, that from yonder ivy-mantled tower,
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,6
Molest her ancient solitary reign.

Beneath those rugged elms,7 that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

(1) This well-known poem is perhaps unequalled for the skill with which the pathetic and the picturesque are combined, to excite our interest in the "simple annals of the poor." The language, too, is eminently tasteful and expressive, and furnishes a rich store of those apt quotations which-like snatches of some favourite air-touch the heart with a momentary, yet most exquisite pleasure. The "country churchyard" is said to be that of Stoke Pogeis, in Buckinghamshire, the scenery in and around which harmonizes well with that described in the poem. Gray spent much of his early life in the neighbourhood of this village, and here too he was buried.

(2) Curfew-the "curfew" here simply means any bell-time indefinitesounding in the evening, and fancifully considered as announcing the death of the day.

(3) Lea-from the Anglo-Saxon leag, laid land-land that lies untilled-a meadow or pasture. Lea is connected with ley, leigh, and legh, which are found in proper names, as Elmsley, Stoneleigh, &c.

(4) Darkness-not absolute darkness, but the shade of evening in contrast with the brightness of day. If taken strictly, it would be inconsistent with "fades" and "glimmering" in the second stanza, and "moon" in the third.

(5) Holds-i. e. the stillness holds or fills all the air.

(6) Bower-from the Anglo-Saxon bur, a retired apartment-any place of retirement; hence a lady's bower is her own private room.

(7) Beneath, &c.-With this stanza, after the prelude of the three preceding, which are purely descriptive, that human interest is infused into the poem, which pervades it henceforth to its close.

The breezy call1 of incense-breathing morn,

The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,2
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,

No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care;
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss5 to share.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!

How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not ambition mock their useful toil,

Their homely joys and destiny obscure;
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.

[The thoughtless7 world to majesty may bow,
Exalt the brave and idolize success;
But more to innocence their safety owe,

Than power or genius e'er conspired to bless.]

(1) Breezy call, &c.—A beautiful stanza, though perhaps slightly marred by the echoing sounds of "breezy" and "breathing." A similar fault occurs in the last stanza, "heaves" and "heap."

(2) The straw-built shed-i. e. the shed or shade formed by the projecting thatch. (3) Lowly bed-of course the actual bed is meant, but the expression has been mistaken for the bed of death, the grave.

(4) Run-run home to tell the news.

(5) Envied kiss, &c.-It is impossible not to quote here the beautiful lines of Lucretius (iv. 907), which probably suggested the above passage :—

"At jam non domus accipiet te læta, neque uxor

Optima, nec dulces occurrent oscula nati

Præripere!"

How pretty is "oscula præripere," to snatch the first kiss!

(6) Oft did, &c.—Each line of this stanza aptly describes a class of agricultural labourers the reapers, the ploughmen, &c.

(7) The thoughtless, &c.-This and the other stanzas enclosed in brackets are taken from the early editions, or from the MS. left by Gray. They are much too beautiful to be either lost or banished, and the present editor has therefore ventured to find a place for them.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour :-

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye proud! impute to these1 the fault,
If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault,
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied2 urn, or animated bust,

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can honour's voice provokes the silent dust,
Or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death?

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid

Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:

But knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unrol:

Chill penury repressed their noble rage,5
And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene

The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:

(1) Impute to these, &c.—i. e. do not suppose that these poor men do not deserve "trophies" as well as you.

(2) Storied-embossed with figures, or bearing an inscription relating to the story and history of the deceased. Milton, in "Il Penseroso" (see p. 310), has

"And storied windows, richly dight,

Casting a dim religious light."

(3) Provoke-from the Latin provoco, I challenge or call forth; here, call back again to life.

(4) Rich with, &c.-containing the riches which time, like a conqueror, has gathered together. A noble expression!

(5) Rage-ardour, enthusiasm. This use of the word was once common. Thus Pope writes:

"So just thy skill, so regular my rage."

(6) Dr. Thomas Brown considers the reference to "gems" of the ocean inconsistent with the other illustrations of the poem, which are all drawn with great taste from rural scenes and circumstances.