The record-union., 1892-10-26
Especial Correspondence of the RECORD
UNION. Copyright, 1921
STOKE PooEs Eng.), Oct. u. 1892.

Especial Correspondence of the RECORD
UNION. Copyright, 1921
STOKE PoGEs (Eng.), Oct. u. 1892.
If the splendid scenic and historic en-
vironment of Stoke Poges, the old home
and chief haunt of the poet Gray, is fine
and stirring, the place itself is one likely
TO awaken the purest emotions of contem-
plation and delight. There are no more
beautiful park and farm landscapes to be
found III England than in Buckingham
shire, which include the velvety reaches
and splendid parks and primeval forests
roundabout Windsor Castle.
But Victoria can nowhere find in all
the sylvan retreats of Home Park, Mid
die Park and Great Park, at Windsor,
that intense retirement and melodious
solitude which fostered the pensive and
gentle spirit breathing from every line of
Gray's matchless ''Eiegy." Peace and
repose seem to brood upon all the lanes
and fields. If you come, as most visitors
do, by way of Windsor and Slough sta
ton, you will insensibly feel this the
moment the latter place has disappeared
behind the elms and you are alone in the
sabbath seems to have descended upon
the entire parish of Stoke Poges and the
manor OF Stoke; and, whatever the season
OF the year, the languorous hush is
always here and ever close and unbroken.
often tramp out here from old London
town with any manner of vagarous eX-
cuse Tor the ldling YagabOnd journey.
Each time l am sure 10 discover some
new lane or hedge -bordered road leading
10 the nook and hest l seek. Wherever |
may be when a half dozen miles away, |
follow blindly only the general direction
towards the tiny gray old Spire which
pushes above the soft bank of trees to the
west; and then, be it by broad highway,
plossoming lane or by iootpath across the
fields, there Is the same surprising quiet
beauty and changeless atmosphere of
rest.
One may only fancy it, but it seems
that even the carts upon the highways
are more noiseless here. Cotter and
plowboy, farmer or grimy potter from
the near kilns, country wench or lassie
with rosy cheeks, appear to move from
house to house or teld to field, as if in
pleasant mood. Kline in fields, dogs at
doorways, sheep in meadows, all browse
or nod as in sleepy solstice time; while
The BIRDS, though no less melodiouS here,
tune their lays as if hesitant of breaking,
even with JOY, the sweet and tender spell.
All this, too, is intensified by the peculiar
retirement OF the central scene of the
'tElegy'-the Stoke Poges Church and
churchyard. Neither is at the wayside
as is usual with English country mano-
rial churches. Unless first rightly di-
rected, you would pass them many times
upon the old north and south highway
rom Slough. They lie to the west of the
Dad hidden by dense masses of trees.
opposite are pleasant fields with here and
Aere willow-bordered runIets of wimp-
summer, are
The kline, breast-deep in the shallow ut neon,
When the nushed sun waits in sanrony
skies
Threadings of lanes and highways with
dainty vistaS stretching to the horizon
between, and. II the trees are wind
whipped enough i'll autumn time,
glimpses Of the somber brown of Eton's
embattled walls, with the great Round
Tower OF Windsor, gray silhouette be-
yond.
If you know the way and have come in
June or July, when lawn and leaf are
richest, you can see from the highway
no more than the chimney, or the caves
or bit of the roof tiling OF a little lodge
beyond the gate. OVerarching trees and
luxurious creepers shut out the Stoke
Park road to church and manor house
completely. Leaving this, you enter a
path leading over a little hlllock through
tangled maze OF coppice and come, at
the end Of perhaps q hundred yards to
a huge monument erected 10 the memory
OF Gray in 1879, by John Penn, grandson
OF William Penn, the then Lord OF Stoke
Manor. The design was by the noted
James Wyatt. 1t consists OF a sarcopha-
gus OF heroic size supported on lofty
square freestone pedestal, the whole
reaching perhaps forty or fifty 1eet above
the sward, which is beautifully inter
spersed with flowers and protected by
surrounding sunken fence.
1t is really the only important monu-
ment to Gray in existence. a vast sum
was once collected under pretense OF a
building fund in memory of Gray at
Pembroke Hall at Cambridge, where he
was for many years one of the most Illus
trious ornaments OF the classic town.
Indeed" says so excellent an authority
rs Gosse, IF strangers did not periodi-
cally inquire (at Cambridge for his room,
it is probable that the name of Gray
would be as completely forgotten at Penn
broke as at Peterhouse from which his
cold bath at the hands of registering fell
low-commoners one January night in
1856 had driven HIM where also no mon
umentot any kind preserves the record
of his presence
And it is not an unpleasant reflection to
an American that near descendant of
the great founder of q great American
"
perishable name in imperishable stone.
The inscriptions on the four sides are
in keeping with the spirit of the spot and
at once emphasize in the visitors mind
the close and loving association of poet.
poetry and place. On the side facing the
south approach is the following:
This Monument, in honor of
THOMAS GRAY
Was Erected a. y. 1899
Among the scenery
Celebrated by that great Lyric and Elegiac
He died in l77I
And lies unnoted in the adjoining churchvard
Under the Tombstone on which he piously
And patneticaly recorded the interment
OF his Aunt and lamented mother.
The other three inscriptions are from
the lode TO Eton College'' and the tFl-
egy." That on the north side is from tho
ode:
Ye distant spires Ye antique towers!
That crown the watery glade.
All, happy hills ah, pleasant shade!
An, fields beloved IN VAIN!
Where once my careless childhood strayed
A stranger Vet to pain
feel the gales that from ye blow,
"A momentary bliss bestow
On the east side are the following two
stanzas from the ''Elegy":
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew trees
shade,
Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude fofefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call Of ineense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built
The cocks shriII clarion or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly
bed.
Again are lines from the "Elegy' cho-
sen for the inscription on the western IA