Suppositis quoties resecabant falcibus arva,
Scissa gravi quoties vomere gleba fuit:
Ut læti in tonsas jumenta egere novales,
Quo ferro in sylvis procubuere trabes!

Ambitio curas ne dedignetur honestas,
Otiaque ignotis haud aliena focis ;
Nec torvo excipiat contracta Superbia risu
Pauperis historiam, sit brevis illa, domi.

Stemmata longa patrum, magnæque potentia famæ, Quicquid forma potest addere, quicquid opes, Expectant pariter non evitabile tempus

Scilicet ad tumulum ducit Honoris iter.

Nec vos, o proceres phalerati, id vertite culpæ,
Quod Pietas illis nulla tropæa locat,
Qua per magnifici laquearia dædala templi
Grandisonum volvunt organa pulsa melos.

Quid tituli, quid sculpta juvabunt marmora? membris
An sese insinuet spiritus arte redux ?

Gloria num tacitas exsuscitet ore favillas ?
Num Stygium tangant mollia verba Deum?

Forsitan hac etiam neglecta in sede quiescant
Quæ cœlo fuerant pectora foeta suo;

Dextera, quæ indomitos domuisset inulta Britannos,
Vel poterat vivam solicitasse lyram.

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,

And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene,

The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.

Th' applause of listening senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,

To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,

And read their history in a nation's eyes,

Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone

Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined; Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,

Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.

Atqui non illis rerum monumenta, nec amplas
Temporis exuvias evoluisse datur:
Frigida Paupertas generosos expulit ignes,
Compressitque pigro corda animosque gelu.

Plurima, quæ raro splendet fulgore, sub imis Fontibus oceani gemma sepulta latet: Plurimus incultis nequicquam nascitur arvis Flosculus, et vacuum complet odore nemus.

Hac, indignatus ruris dare colla tyranno,
Brutus in obscura dormiat alter humo ;
Inscius hic cithara Nasoque inglorius ævi,

Nec patriæ temerans fœdera Cæsar aquæ.

Imperitare animo pendentis ab ore senatus,

Temnere pænarum damna gravesque minas, Per gentes pleno diffundere munera cornu, Et scribi in populi vultubus urbis amor,

Sorte negatum illis-nec, quæ virtutibus essent
Invida, nequitiæ Fata dedere viam :
Sed vetuere armis male parta capessere regna,
Et generi exitium deproperare suo;

Condere sinceros agitato in pectore motus,
Luctari ingenuus ne rubor ora' notet,
Aut ferre ad tumidi cumulata altaria luxus
Pro pudor! Aonii thurea dona chori.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
Along the cool sequestered vale of life

They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.

Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,

With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelt by th' unlettered Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:

And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.

For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er 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 pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonoured dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate:

If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,

Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,

Ambitione procul vesana et lite forensi,
Quisque suum placide conficiebat iter:
Per vitæ ambages gratas in valle reducta
Carpebant tacitos ac sine labe dies.

Hæc tamen ut pedibus sint ossa intacta profanis,

E fragili saxo tollitur urna memor,

Quæ versu illepido sculptisque sine arte figuris
Sæpe viatorem sistere, flere monet.

Musa rudis signat quæ nomina, computat annos,
Quicquid laudis egent suppeditare valet;
Aureaque excerpsit sacrato e codice dicta,
Quæ doceant quid sit vivere, quidque mori.

Nam quis pervigilis, sic immemor usque priorum, Delicias animæ deposuisse velit ?

Ecquis deseruit lætæ confinia lucis,

Nec tulit ad superas ora reflexa plagas?

Sese anima in gremium fugitiva receptat amicum,
Ultima lachrymulam flagitat hora piam:

Vel de ferali clamat Natura sepulchro,
Vel calet effoeto fax rediviva rogo!

Te vero, memorem turbæ sine honore jacentis,
Quem juvat infletas sic retulisse vices,

Si te forte dolens, animo huc compulsus eodem,
Advena, quæ fuerint et tua fata, petat: