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G R A V E,
By Robert Blair.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED
IN A COUNTRYCHURCH-YARD,
By Bishop Porteus.
Written in Westminster Abbey.
IN A COUNTRY CHU.RCH-YARD,
By the Rev. Mr. Moore,
.When self-esteem, or others' adulation,
ViJc Blah't Grave.
HILST some afFect the sun, and some the shade,
Some flee the city, some the hermitage;
Their aims as various as the roads they take
In journeying through life; the task be mine
To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb:
Th' appointed place of rendezvous, where all
These travelers meet. Thy succours I implore, '.*~'~
Eternal King! whose potent arm sustains
The keys of hell and death. The Grave, dread thing?
Men shiver when thou'rt nam'd: Nature appal'd
Shakes off her wonted firmness. Ah! how dark
Thy long-extended realms, and rueful wastes:
Where nought but silence reigns, arid night, dark night,
Dark as was Chaos ere the infant sun
Was rbll'd together, or had tried its beams'
Athwart the gloom profound.! the sickly taper
By glimm'ring through thy low-brow'd misty vaults,
Furr'd round with mouldy damps, and ropy slime,
Lets fall a supernumerary horror,
And only serves to make the night more irksome.
Well do I know thee by thy trusty yew,
Cheerless, unsocial plant! that loves to dwell
See yonder hallow'd fane! the pious work
The wind is up; hark! how it howls! methinks,
Quite round the pile, a row of reverend elms, — i Coaeval near with all that ragged shew, Long lash'd by the rude winds: some rift half down Their branchless trunks: others so thin a-top That scarce two crows could lodge in the same tree. Strange things, the neighbours say, have happen'd here; 'Wild shrieks have issued from the hollow tombsj Dead men have come again and walk'd about; And the great bell has toll'd, unrung, untouched.