At Aix his voluntary sword he drew, There first in blood his infant honour seal'd From fortune, pleasure, science, love he flew, And scorn'd repose when Britain took the field. With eyes of flame, and cool undaunted breast, Victor he stood on Beilisle's rocky steepsAh! gallant youth! this marble tells the rest, Where melancholy Friendship bends, and weeps. ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY OUNTRY CHURCH-YAR THE Curfew tolls the knell of parting day, Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, e distant folds: And drowsy tinklings lull the Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower The moping owl does to the moon compiain Of such as, wand'ring 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 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 I For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 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! 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, The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye Proud, impute to These the fault, Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death? Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; But knowledge to their eyes her ample page Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage, Full many a gem, of purest ray serene, Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet ev❜n these bones from insult to protect With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse, And many a holy text around she strews, For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, On some fond breast the parting soul relies, For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead, Haply some hoary-headed Swain may say, "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. 'One morn I miss'd him on the 'custom'd hill, Along the heath and near his favʼrite tree ; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; '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 aged thorn. THE EPITAPH. HERE rests his head upon the lap of Earth, He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode (There they alike in trembling hope repose), The bosom of his Father and his God. VERSES ON THE MARRIAGE OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE OF WALES. IGNARE nostrùm mentes, et inertia corda, Dum curas regum, et sortem miseramur iniquam, |