And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more; where ignorance is bliss,

'Tis folly to be wise.1

On a Distant Prospect of Eton College. Stanza 10,

Daughter of Jove, relentless power,

Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour

The bad affright, afflict the best!

From Helicon's harmonious springs
A thousand rills their mazy progress take.

Hymn to Adversity,

The Progress of Poesy. I. 1, Line 3.

Glance their many-twinkling feet.

3, Line 11.

O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move
The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.

Her track, where'er the goddess roves,
Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame,

Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame.

Line 16.

11. 2, Line 10.

Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.

III. 1, Line 12.

He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time:
The living throne, the sapphire blaze,
Where angels tremble while they gaze,

He saw; but blasted with excess of light,
Closed his eyes in endless night.

2, Line 4.

Bright-eyed Fancy, hov'ring o'er,

Scatters from her pictured urn

Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.'

3, Line 2.

Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate,

Beneath the good how far, - but far above the great.

1 See Davenant, page 217.

Line 16.

He that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.— Ecclesiastes i. 18. 2 The light of love. BYRON: Bride of Abydos, canto i. stanza 6.

-

8 Unconquerable mind. WORDSWORTH: To Toussaint L'Ouverture.

See Cowley, page 262.

Ruin seize thee, ruthless king!

Confusion on thy banners wait!

Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing,
They mock the air with idle state.

Loose his beard, and hoary hair

The Bard. I. 1, Line 1.

Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air.1

To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.

Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes;
Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.2

Weave the warp, and weave the woof,

The winding-sheet of Edward's race. Give ample room and verge enough

The characters of hell to trace.

2, Line 5.

Line 14.

3, Line 12.

II. 1, Line 1.

Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows;
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes,

Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,
That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.

Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!

2, Line 9.

3, Line 11.

III. 1, Line 11. 3, Line 3. Ode for Music. Line 2.

And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
Comus and his midnight crew.
While bright-eyed Science watches round.

The still small voice of gratitude.

Ibid. Chorus. Line 3.

Ibid. V. Line 8.

1 See Cowley, page 261. Milton, page 224.
2 See Shakespeare, page 112. Otway, page 280.
8 See Dryden, page 277.

Iron sleet of arrowy shower
Hurtles in the darken'd air.

The Fatal Sisters. Line 3.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,1
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 1.

Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.

Stanza 4.

Stanza 5.

Stanza 8.

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

And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour.

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Stanza 9.

Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn, or animated bust,

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

Stanza 10.

Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death? Stanza 11.

Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd,

Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

Stanza 12.

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; 2

Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.

Stanza 13

1 The first edition reads,

"The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea."

2 See Sir Thomas Browne, page 217.

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.1

Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 14.

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.

The applause of list'ning 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.

Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.
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."

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Stanza 15.

Stanza 16.

Stanza 17.

Stanza 19.

Stanza 20.

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 ling'ring look behind? E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

1 See Young, page 311.

Stanza 21.

Stanza 22.

Stanza 23.

Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air. -CHURCHILL: Gotham, book ii. line 20.

2 Usually quoted "even tenor of their way."

8 See Chaucer, page 3.

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 25.
One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree :
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth,

A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.1

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:

Stanza 28.

The Epitaph.

He gave to mis'ry (all he had) a tear,

He gained from Heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a friend.

Ibid.

No further 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.

And weep the more, because I weep in vain.

Ibid.

Sonnet. On the Death of Mr. West.

Rich windows that exclude the light,

And passages that lead to nothing. The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Chastised by sabler tints of woe.

A Long Story.

Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 45.

The meanest floweret of the vale,

The simplest note that swells the gale,

The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening paradise.

Line 53.

And hie him home, at evening's close,
To sweet repast and calm repose.

Line 87.

1 See Walton, page 208.