165. William Shenstone. 1714-1763. (History, p. 200.)

THE SHEPHERD'S HOME.

My banks they are furnished with bees,
Whose murmur invites one to sleep :
My grottos are shaded with trees,2
And my hills are white over with sheep.
I seldom have met with a loss,

Such health do my fountains bestow;
My fountains are bordered with moss,
Where the harebells and violets blow.
Not a pine in my grove is there seen,
But with tendrils of woodbine is bound;
Not a beech's more beautiful green,

But a sweet-brier entwines it around.
Not my fields, in the prime of the year,
More charms than my cattle 3 unfold;
Not a brook that is limpid and clear,
But it glitters with fishes of gold.

One would think she might like to retire
To the bower I have laboured to rear;
Not a shrub that I heard her admire,
But I hasted and planted it there.
Oh, how sudden the jessamine strove
With the lilac to render it gay!
Already it calls for my love

To prune the wild branches away.

1. Grotto, Fr. grotte, It. grotta, O. Fr. crota, a cavern, are from Lat. crypta, Gk. круптη. Grotesque is a derivative of this word, resembling a grotto, fantastic (Diez)..

2. Trees: by Grimm's law tree is exactly the same word as Gk. Spûs, an oak, or tree par excellence, just as two is duo; as timber is δόμος (from δέμω ; timbran in O. E. meant to build); as tooth is dens, ο-δούς; toe is δάκτυλος. By the same law these letters, Gothic t,

classical d, are represented in O. H. G. by z; zwei, zimmer (a room), zahn, zehe will accordingly represent the last four respectively.

3. Cattle: chattel is merely another form of cattle, the usual derivation of both being capitale : so that the phrase "heads of cattle" would be a kind of tautology. Others take both from Fr. acheter, to buy, procure, which comes from adcaptare, to take to oneself.

From the plains, from the woodlands, and groves,

What strains of wild melody flow!
How the nightingales warble their loves

From thickets of roses that blow !
And when her bright form shall appear,
Each bird shall harmoniously join
In a concert so soft and so clear,
As-she may not be fond to resign.

1. Concert means agreement; and would seem to be more correctly spelt consert, fr. It. conserto agreement. The

Lat. concentus, harmony, in all probability has influenced the spelling of the word.

166. William Collins. 1721-1759. (History, p. 200.)

ODE.

How sleep the brave who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
When spring, with dewy fingers' cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than fancy's feet have ever trod.

By fairy hands1 their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge 2 is sung;
There honour comes, a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell, a weeping hermit,3 there.

1. Fingers. .. .. hands: the same thought seems to have been predominant in the formation of both these words: fingers are the grasping things, from fangen, to seize; and hands are the seizing things, from a root which is seen in Lat. pre-hend-ere, hunt, hint, &c. See note 19, extract 132.

An attempt has also been made to

connect fingers with five.

2. Dirge is a mere contraction of the Latin dirige, "Dirige nos, Domine," being the first words of the psalm usually employed at burials. Indeed the word was commonly spelt dirige in old times.

3. Hermit, an eremite, or dweller in the desert; Gk. ἐρημίτης.

Thomas Gray. 1716-1771. (History, p. 202.)

167. ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homewards plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:

Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower,

The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,

The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bel.

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 to share.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle 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!

1. Curfew: couvre-feu. Feu comes from Lat. focus, a hearth.

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful 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,
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where, through the long-drawn aisle 2 and fretted vault,3
The pealing anthem 4 swells the note of praise.

Can storied 5 urn or animated bust

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,

Or Flattery soothe the dull 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 sway'd,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of Time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene

The dark unfathom'd 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.

2. Aisle; Fr. aile, comes from Lat. ala, a wing.

3. Fretted vault: for fretted see note 3, extract 15. Vault, It. vol.a, comes from Lat, volutus.

4. Anthem, Fr. antienne, is from antiphona (άντιφωνή).

5. Storied: story is but a shorter form of history (Gk. ioTopía).

The 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 forbade; nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbade 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.

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 e'en these bones, from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelt by the 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.

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, 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.

6. Uncouth originally meant nothing more than unknown, couth, cuth being the part. of cunnan, to know. Spenser speaks of an "uncouth (i. e. unexplored) wood." Then upon the common prin

ciple of "omne ignotum pro vili" it passed to its modern sense. Kith, in the phrase "kith and kin," acquaintances and relatives, preserves the same root.