Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, And read their history in a nation's eyes,-64 Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone confined; Forbade to wade thro' slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind. 68 The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. 72 Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool, sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect 76 Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 80 Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply; And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. 84 For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind? 88 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. دو For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech 100 That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 104 "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove, Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one, forlorn, Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. 108 "One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he: 112 The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon agèd 116 THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth; Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, He gain'd from Heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) No farther seek his merits to disclose, ; 124 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God. 128 Thomas Gray, 751. THANATOPSIS To him who, in the love of Nature, holds Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, 10 To Nature's teachings, while from all around- Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again; Thine individual being, shalt thou go To be a brother to the insensible rock, And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould. Yet not to thine eternal resting-place Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, Of the great tomb of man! The golden sun, 30 40 50 |