Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1853-02-09
FOR THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE.
Thoughts On "Gray's Elegy in a Country
Church Yard"

written. At the time of its composition, he
was either in the midst (or imagined himself
in the midst) of the moss covered graves of
the ancestors of village, whose name he
has not given and the time he has chosen
the hour Oftwilight-harmonizes so graceful
ly with the solemn and truthful thoughts and
sentiments he then utters. He describes
most beautifully and with SO much pictures
que force, in the first ~stanza, the scene of the
herds of cattle winding their way leisurely
across the fields, and the weary plough-man
returning home, solitary and alone, after his
days labor. At that time, as he tells us in
the second stanza, the sun had been gone
down for some time the beautifullandscape
that was stretched out before him was fading
gradually away from his vision-all was be-
coming dark the air was holdinga " solemn
Stiffness" interrupted only by the "~droning'
noise which the beetle made in his fight, and
the sleep-inducing f." tinklings" of the bells
that sounded family and sweetly in his ears
from where the sheep were confined in their
nightly resting places. Interrupted too the
/" solemn stiffness" was, by the deep-toned
and harshly sounding co~mplainings Of " the
owl" from a neighboring " ivy mantled tow
err" as she fancied that those " wandering
near" wereintent on disturbing her in the
possession of the lofty residence where she
had so long held ~undisputed and undistured
dominion.
lie goes on then, after making such a beau
tiful and highly poetical introduction to his
main subject, to speak of those rude fore
fathers" who lay buried "each in his mar
row cell" and represents them, in the fifth
stanza, as being insensible to all those sights
and sounds which once gave them so much
pleasure, "the breezy call ofincense breath
ing MORN" "the twittering swallow" the
growing of the cock and the shrilly sounding
" horn" which was wont to rouse them up at
the approach of day from their peaceful and
healthy slumber. All these things they would
see and hear "no more" They were quietly
sleeping their last long sleep, that :" sleep
that knows ne breaking" save by the trump
Of the Archangel sounded on the resurrection
morn. For them "no more" would the ''bla-
ling hearth" burn when, at the evening hour,
the family were gathered in a lovely circle
of happy faces and still happier hearts around
it. "No more would their children, the
dear little {" wee things Sc wild fittering noise
and glee," run out to meet them at their glad
return home, and fondly climbing upon their
knees, eagerly strive to obtain the partial kiss
of affection.
[ do love the sixth stanza. In it the high
) ly gifted Author has presented to our minds
r some of the most beautiful pictures ofdomes-
} tic happiness that were ever drawn by the
1 Poets artistic, magical skill. How sublime
r ly he speaks in the ninth Stanza of the equal
: and impartialde dealings of the I" grim monster"
| Death, to all ranks and classes, the rich and
the poor, the high and the low-al1, all alike
yield obedience to his mighty power and his
terrible m When he calls, none, how
It ever loftily they may be elevated, dare refuse
V to obey his stern unalterablem mandate. Wher
k he knocks for admittance into the trembling
and terror-stricken hearts of men, the dool
must be thrown wide open to receive him al
a conquerror. And the paths" of the grea
Us statesman, the naughty noble, the sceptreC
V king and the blood stained, blood spilIin!
warrior, as we'll as "the paths of the hum
< bier classes of the sons of men, lead alike t.
IS the dismal terrible cave of Death. Wealth
e beauty, power, naught on earth, can sayethen
l. from entering within its dark gloomy confines
re AS with shudderingS and tremblings of hear
Of they approach Deaths dominions, how vii
e lingly they would escape from their dreadful
n doom, how willingly they would linger blu
is in his dreary cavern they must go. All mus
De die.
In the twenty-second stanza, he has de:
Of cribed %solemnly and pathetically that love {
tie life which is inherent in the nature Of mar
ks and which makes him desire to live longe
st than his allotted period, and cast one longin
s. lingering look behind on the world which h
is leaving. The fourteenth stanza [ am ne1
er tired of repeating, especially the two las
lines. 1t is frequently quoted, and seems t
be a favorite among all those who Law eve
the least claim to a poetical taste. Almo,
every one who reads it commits it to til
I'd keeping of his memory, as a treasure we
to deserving careful preservation. The fate {
tn many a great genius who is born in such
L situation and surrounded by such adversec CT
cumstancest that he cannot display his grea
lr- ness to the world, is beautifully and trutl
no fully Illustrated, by the comparison of tt
flower "blushing unseen" and wasting i
lie, sweetness on the desert air. And the brigh
nd ness of genius too, is often hid by the ills
poverty, like the sparkling 4" gem" In tt
~ dark deep ocean below. Itsparkles still, b.
lat none view its brilliancy, none admire its III
le- ire, none bring it forth into the light Of da
be Such is genius, neglected, dwelling unobse
en- we'd by others, in the heart of its possesso
But it is genius still. That man is never t!
to less raised above the common mass, in who
ur bosom it dwells as "the gen." amid Il
a trash of invaluable pebbles that surround
ur In the five concluding stanzas he has narr
IRE ted most beautifully and touchingly, in IL
nd person of a " hoary headed swain" the lif
the occupations, the feelings the pleasure
~, the death and consignment to the grave,
M such an unfortunate son of genius as he h;
before compared, in the fourteenth stanz
ro- to the hidden gem and the solitary fox
m, blooming in wild loneliness. The descriptit
to of the procession that followed his remain
.He as they were borne through the church var
a is solemn and mournful. 1t excites feelin
Try of a peculiar kind of sadness, and a croy
emit of sorrowful reflections come rushing almC
unbidden into the mind of the reader. I
ta, language is strangely and peculiarly sugg
did tive of mournful thoughts and saddeni
emotions. No one can read it without bel
the deeply and mysteriousfy affected. There
be a solemn grandeur about it which forcit
ma reminds US of the fourteenth chapter of t
vor Book of Job. The epitaph which the P,
in gives to his tombstone, reveals his charac
mt to us. From it we learn that he had a "sC
) a sincere" was a christian and a genius, a
lin, though he was subject to melancholy in