AN ELEGY,

WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.

BY M R.

GR A Y.

THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day,

The lowing herd wind flowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the fight, And all the air a folemn ftillness holds,

Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r Moleft her ancient, folitary reign.

Beneath

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CARMEN ELEGIACUM,

IN CIMÆTERIO RUSTICO COMPOSITUM.

Audiftin! quam lenta fonans campana per agros,

Erato occiduam nuntiat ore diem. Armenta impellunt crebris mugitibus auras, Laffatufque domum rufticus urget iter. Solus ego in tenebris moror, & veftigia folus Compono tacitâ nocte, vacoque mihi.

Omnia pallefcunt jam decedentia visu,
Et terra & cœlum, qua patet, omne filet.
Cuncta filent, nifi musca suam fub vefpere fero
Raucifonans pigram qua rotat orbe fugam;
Cuncta filent, nifi qua faciles campanula fomnos
Allicit, & lento murmure mulcet oves.

Quâque hedera antiquas fociâ complectitur umbrâ
Turres, feralis lugubre cantat avis;

Et ftrepit ad lunam, fi quis fub nocte vagetur
Imperium violans, Cynthia Diva, tuum.

Has

Beneath thofe rugged elms, that yew-trees fhade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet fleep.

The breezy call of incenfe-breathing morn, The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built fhed, The cock's fhrill clarion, or, the echoing horn, No more fhall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth fhall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care: Nor children run to lifp their fire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kifs to share.

Oft did the harvest to their fickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke! How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let

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Has propter veteres ulmos, taxique fub umbrâ
Qua putris multo cefpite turget humus,
Dormit, in æternum dormit gens prifca colonûm,
Quifque fuâ anguftâ conditus ufque domo.

Hos nec mane novum, Zephyrique fragrantior aura,
Nec gallus vigili qui vocat ore diem,
Nec circumvolitans quæ ftridula garrit hirundo
Stramineumque altâ fub trabe figit opus,
Undique nec cornu vox ingeminata fonantis
Æterno elicient hos, repetentque toro.

Amplius his nunquam conjux bene fida marito
Ingeret ardenti grandia ligna foco;

Nec reditum expectans domini fub vespere sero
Excoquet agreftes officiofa dapes ;

Nec curret raptim genitoris ad oscula proles,
Nec reducem agnofcent æmula turba patrem..

Quam fæpe Hi raftris glebam fregere feracem!
Sæpe horum cecidit falce refecta feges.
Quam læti egerunt ftridentia plauftra per agros,
Et ftimulis tardos increpuere boves!
Horum fylva vetus quam concidit i&a bipenni,
Quaque ruit laté vi tremefecit humum !

Ne

Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and deftiny obfcure; Nor grandeur hear with a difdainful fmile, The short and fimple annals of the poor.

The boaft of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th' inevitable hour.

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If Mem'ry o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where thro' the long-drawn ifle and fretted vault The pealing anthem fwells the note of praise.

Can ftoried urn or animated buft

Back to its manfion call the fleeting breath?
Can honour's voice provoke the filent duft,
Or Flatt'ry footh the dull cold ear of Death?

Perhaps