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The house appointed for all living.
Job. Whilst some affect the sun, and some the shade, Some flee the city, some the hermitage ; Their aims as various as the roads they take In journeying through life ;—the task be mine To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb; Th' appointed place of rendezvous, where all These travellers meet.--Thy succours I implore, Eternal King! whose potent arm sustains The keys of Hell and Death. - The Grave, dread
thing! Men shudder when thou'rt nam'd: nature appall'd Shakes off her wonted firmness.-Ah! how dark Thy long extended realms, and rueful wastes ! Where nought but silence reigns, and night, dark Dark as was chaos, ere the infant Sun [night, Was roll'd together, or had tried his beams Athwart the gloom profound.—The sickly taper, By glimmering through thy low-brow'd misty
vaults, (Furr'd round with mouldy damps and ropy slime) Lets fall a supernumerary horror, And only serves to make thy night more irksome. Well do I know thee by thy trusty yew, Cheerless, unsocial plant! that loves to dwell Midst sculls and coffins, epitaphs and worms : Where light-heeld ghosts, and visionary shades, Beneath the wan cold Moon (as fame reports) Em odied, k, perform their mystic rounds. No other merriment, dull tree! is thine.
See yonder hallow'd fane--the pious work
Of names once fam'd, now dubious or forgot,
bird, Rook'd in the spire, screams loud: the gloomy aisles, Black-plaster'd, and hung round with shreds of
'scutcheons And tatter'd coats of arms, send back the sound, Laden with heavier airs, from the low vaults, The mansions of the dead.-Rous'd from their
slumbers, In grim array the grisly spectres rise, Grin horrible, and, obstinately sullen, Pass and repass, hush'd as the foot of night. Again the screech-owl shrieks : ungracious sound! I'll hear no more ; it makes one's blood run chill.
Quite round the pile, a row of reverend elms, (Coeval near with that) all ragged show, Long lash'd by the rude winds. Some rift half down Their branchless trunks; others so thin a-top, That scarce two crows could lodge in the same tree. Strange things, the neighbours say, have happen'd
here: Wild shrieks have issued from the hollow tombs; Dead men have come again, and walk'd about; And the great bell has tolld, uprung, untouch'd. (Such tales their cheer, at wake or gossiping, When it draws near the witching time of night.)
Oft in the lone church-yard at night I've seen, By glimpse of moonshine chequering through the
The school-boy, with his satchel in his hand,
The new-made widow, too, I've sometimes spied,
Invidious Grave! how dost thou rend in sunder Whom love has knit, and sympathy made one! A tie more stubborn far than Nature's band. Friendship ! mysterious cement of the soul, Sweetner of life, and solder of society, I owe thee much. Thou hast deserv'd from me Far, far beyond what I can ever pay.
Oft have I prov'd the labours of thy love,
blood, Strik'st out the dimple from the cheek of mirth, And every smirking feature from the face : Branding our laughter with the name of madness. Where are the jesters now ? the men of health Complexionally pleasant? Where's the droll, Whose every look and gesture was a joke To clapping theatres and shouting crowds, And made ev'n thick-lip'd, musing Melancholy. To gather up her face into a smile Before she was aware ? Ah ! sullen now, And dumb as the green turf that covers them.
Where are the mighty thunderbolts of war?
The Roman Cæsars, and the Grecian chiefs,
Butsee! the well-plum'd hearse comes nodding on, Stately and slow; and properly attended