The record-union., 1892-11-12
ELEGY WRITTEN II A COUNTRY
CHURCHYARD.
THOMAS GRAY, I716-1771.l

Wnere heaves the turf in many moldering
heap
Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude ioretathers Of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of ofincense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built
shed,
The cocks shriIl 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 kiss 10 share.
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield.
Ihelr 1urrow oft the stubborn glebe has
How Jocund did they drive their team afeld
HOW bowed the woods beneath their sturdy
Let not ambition mock their useful toll.
1helr hOmelY Joys, and destiny obscure:
Nor grandeur hear with disdulnful 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'er
gave
Await alike the inevitable hour;
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault.
II memory DER their tomb no trophies raise
Where through the long-drawn aisle and
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise
Can storied urn, or animated bust
BACK TO its mansion call the tlecJino breath?
Can honOrS voice provoke the silent dust
Or hattery soothe the duh 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 walked 10 ecstasy the living Tyre;
But knowledge to their eyes her ample page
hlch Win The spollS OF time did ne'er unroll:
Chlii penuIy repreSSed their noble rage,
And troze the genial current Of the soul
Full many gem of purest ray serene
The dark uutathOmed caves of ocean bear.
Full many 1Ower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air
Some village Hampden, that, with dauntess
The little tyrant Of his fields withstood
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest
some Cromwell guiltless of his country's
The applause of listening senates to command.
r. y. me ne threats OF pain and ruin TO despise.
10 scatter plenty DER smiling land
AND read their history in a nations eyes,
Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone
Ihelr growing virtues, but their crimes con-
fined;
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
ANA smut the gates OF mercy on mankind;
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to
hide,
To quencn the bushes OF ingenious shame,
Or heap the shrine OF luxury ana pride
With incense kindied at the Muses. flame.
Far from the madding crowds ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learned 10 stray.
Along the cool sequeSte red vale of life
Ihey kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Npt
:, some irall memorial still erected nigh,
W lth uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpt-
ure decked,
Implores the passing tribute ofa sigh.
Their name, their years, spelt by the unlet-
tered Muse,
The place Of fame and elegv supply:
Anu many holy text around she strews
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who. to dumb forgetfulness n prey.
This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned
LelL the warm preclngts OF the cheerful day
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relics.
some plous drops the closing eve requires.
Een from the tomb the voice OF nature cries
Zen IN our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who mindful of the unhonored dead.
Dost IN these lines their artlesS tale relate:
II chance. by lonely contemplation led.
some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate
HAPPY some hoary-headed swain NAV say:
or nave We seen HIM at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away
10 meet the sun upon the upland lawn:
There at the foot of yonder nodding beech.
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high
His hstless length at noontide would he
stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward tances he would
rove;
Now dropping, woful-wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless
One morn I missed him on the customed hill.
Along the heath, and near his tavorite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rll,
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 flor thou canst read the
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
THE EPITAPH.
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth.
youth to fortune and to fame unknown:
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth
And Melancholy marked him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere:
Heaven did recOmpense as largely send:
He gave to misery tall he had n tear,
He gained from Heaven Ctwas all ne wished)
a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose.
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling and reposel
The bosom of his Father and his God.
-s~