Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1875-08-31
GARY'S ELEGY,
WRITTEN IN 4 COUNTRY CnrRCn-YARi

And drowsy tinklngs lul the distant folds.
Save that from yonder ivy -mantled tower,
The moping owl does to the moon complain,
Of such, wandying near her secret bower
Nloles her ancient solitary reign
Beneath these rugged elms, that yew trees shade,
Where leayes the turf in many moulderng heap
Each in his narrow cell Tor ever laid,
The rude fOrcfalhels OF the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense breathing morn,
The swallow twittriug from the straw-buii shed
The cocks shril clarion OF the echong horn
No more shall rouse them from their lowy bed
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care
No children run to lisp their sireS return,
Or climb his knees the crVied kiss to share
oft did the harvest to their sickle yield
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebc has broke
How iocund did they drive their team a-hed
How how'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke
Let ambition mock their useful toll
Their homely Joys and destiny obscure;
Nor grandeur hear, wtha disdainful smile,
The Short and simple annals Of the poor
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'cr gave,
Await, alike the inevitable hour;
The paths Of glory lead-m TO the grave
Nor yo,l. We proud inpue to these q fault,
II mem'y DER their tomb no trophies raise
Where through the long drawn aisle and treted vault
The pealng anthem SWcls the note OF praise.
Can story d urn, or animated bust,
Back to its mansion call the leeng breath
Can honolTs voice provoke the silent dust
Or iiatt'ry sooth the dull cold ear Of death :
PERHAPS in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart, once pregnant with celestial hre
Hands that the rod Of empire might have sWayd
Or wo,d to ecstasy the living Tyre
But knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils Of time, did nc'er m1oli
Chill penury ropressd their noble rage,
And froZo the genial current CT the soul
full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark, unIathond caves of ocean bear;
Full many flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness ON the desert air
Some village IIarlpien that with dauntless breast,
The little tyrant of his fields witlsood
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest
Some Cromwell gUiltcss OF his countrys blood
fl, applause of ming sAaes to command,
The threats of pain and ruin 10 despisc,
10 scatter plenty DER smiling land,
And read their hisry in a nations eyes.
Their lot forbade : nor crclmscrbd alone,
Their growing virtues but their crimes confnd:
Forbade to wade through slaughter to throne,
And shut the gates Of mercy on mankind
The struggling pangs Of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the bushes of ingenious shame:
Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride,
With incense kinded at the muses. flame.
Far from the maddning crowds ignobe strife
Their sober wishes never lennd to stray
Along the cool sequescrd vale OF life,
They kept the nOselcSs tcnouf OF their way.
Sc, cen these bones from insult protect,
Some fral memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouh rhymes and slapeless sculpture deckd,
ImplOres the passing tribute OF sigh
Their name, their years, spelt by tn uneerd muse
The place of fame and elegy supply;
And many holy text around she sreWS,
That teach the rustic morNliss t) die.
For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being ecr resigned
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind:
On some fond breast the parting soul relies;
Some pous drops the closing eye requires
Fen from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
Fen in our ashes live their wonted sires
For thee. who mindful of the unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their aress tale relate,
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate.
lIaply some hoary headed swain may say,
''Ot have seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
TO meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
There at the foot of yonder noddng beech
That wreatheS its old fantastic roots so high,
His liSess length ut noontide would be stretch.
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn,
Aiutring his wayward fancies he would rove:
Now dropping, wofu wan, like forlorn
Or craz'd with care, crossd in hopeless love.
One morn missd him on the accustomd HILL
Along the heath and near his favrite tree;
Another came nor yet beside the ril
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.
The next with dirgcs due in sad array,
Slow through the churchway path him borne,
Approach and read Qor thou canst ready the lay,
'Gravd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn"
THE EPITAPH.
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth,
A youth to fortune and to fame unknown
Fair Science frown'd not on his humble BIRTH
And melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere:
Heaven did a recompense as largely send.
lic gave to msry all he had-a tear
He gain'd from heaven Ctwas all he wishd) friend
No farther 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.