Unmanly thought! what seasons can controul,

What fancied zone can circumscribe the soul,

Who, conscious of the source from whence she springs,

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By reason's light, on resolution's wings,

Spite of her frail companion, dauntless goes

O'er Libya's deserts and thro' Zembla's snows?
She bids each slumb'ring energy awake,
Another touch, another temper take,

Suspends th' inferior laws, that rule our clay :
The stubborn elements confess her sway;
Their little wants, their low desires, refine,
And raise the mortal to a height divine.

Not but the human fabric from the birth
Imbibes a flavour of its parent earth.
As various tracts enforce a various toil,
The manners speak the idiom of their soil.
An iron-race the mountain-cliffs maintain,
Foes to the gentler genius of the plain :
For where unwearied sinews must be found
With side-long plough to quell the flinty ground,
To turn the torrent's swift-descending flood,
To brave the savage rushing from the wood,

What wonder, if to patient valour train'd

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85

90

They guard with spirit, what by strength they gain'd? 95 And while their rocky ramparts round they see,

The rough abode of want and liberty,

(As lawless force from confidence will grow)
Insult the plenty of the vales below?
What wonder, in the sultry climes, that spread
Where Nile redundant o'er his summer-bed
From his broad bosom life and verdure flings,
And broods o'er Ægypt with his wat'ry wings,
If with advent'rous oar and ready sail
The dusky people drive before the gale;

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Or on frail floats to distant cities ride,

That rise and glitter o'er the ambient tide.

"I find also among these papers a single couplet much too beautiful to be lost, though the place where he meant to introduce it cannot be ascertained." — Mason.

When Love could teach a monarch to be wise,
And Gospel-light first dawn'd from BULLEN'S Eyes.

VII.

ELEGY

WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.

1

THE Curfew tolls 1 the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly 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 sight, 5
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 tow'r

The mopeing owl does to the moon complain
Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.

IO

Dante. Purgat. 1. 8.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring 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 twitt'ring from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

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.

15

20

Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile, The short and simple annals of the poor.

30

(The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,

And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,

Awaits alike th' inevitable hour.

35

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 isle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

40

Or on frail floats to distant cities ride,

That rise and glitter o'er the ambient tide.

"I find also among these papers a single couplet much too beautiful to be lost, though the place where he meant to introduce it cannot be ascertained." — Mason.

When Love could teach a monarch to be wise,
And Gospel-light first dawn'd from BULLEN'S Eyes.

VII.

ELEGY

WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.

THE Curfew tolls 1 the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly 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 sight, 5
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 tow'r

The mopeing owl does to the moon complain
Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.

IO

Dante. Purgat. 1. 8.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring 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 twitt'ring from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

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.

15

20

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,

25

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 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 pow'r,

And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,

(Awaits alike th' inevitable hour.

らしい

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 isle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

30

35

40