Rewards, that either would to Virtue bring
No joy, or be destructive of the thing:
How oft by thefe at fixty are undone
The virtue's of a faint at twenty-one!
To whom can riches give repute, or trust,
Content, or pleature, but the good and just?
Judges and Senates have been bought for gold;
Eteem and love were never to be old.
Oh fool; to think God hates the worthy mind,
The lover, and the love of human kind,
Whole life is healthful,& whofe confcienceclear,
Because he wants a thousand pounds a year.
37. An Elegy, written in a Country Church-
Yard. Gray.
THE Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds flowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to daiknels and to me.
Nowfadesthe glimm`ring landscape on the fight,
And all the air a folemn tillhefs holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the diftant folds;
Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tow`r,
The moping owl does to the Moon complain
Of fuch, as wand'ring near her fecret bow'r,
Moleft her ancient folitary reign.
Beneath thofe rugged elms,that yew-tree's fhade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring
Each in his narrow ceil for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet fleep.
[heap,
The breezycal of incenfe-breathing mon.[fred,
The fwallow twitting from the fraw-built
The cock's thrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more fhall route them from their lowlybed.
For them no more the blazing earth fhall burn,
Or buy housewife ply her evening care:
Nor children run to lifp their fires return,
Or climb his knees the envied kifs to thare.
Oft did the harvest to their fickle yield;
Ti eir furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke. Hov jocund did they drive their teams afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke;
Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and deftiny obfcure;
Nor grandeur bear with a dildainful fmile,
The fhort and fimple annals of the poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await, alike, th' inevitable hour;
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye proud, impute to thefe the fault,
If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raife.
Where thro' the long-drawnie & fretted vault,
The pealing anthem wells the note of praife.
Can ftoried urn, or animated bust,
Back to its manfion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the filent duft,
Or flattery footh the dull cold ear of death?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celeftial fir
Hands, that the rod of empire might havelway
Cr wak'd to extacy the living lyre.
But knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Chill Penury reprefs'd their noble rage,
Rich with the fpoils of Time, did ne'er unr
Full many a gem, of pureft ray ferene,
And froze the genial current of the foul.
Full many a flow'r is born to binth unfeen.
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear
And waite its fweetness on the defert air.
Some village-Hampden.thatwith dauntlessbre
The little.tyrant of his fields withitocd;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest:
SomeCromwell guiltlesof his country'sblo
To fcatter plenty o'er a fmiling land,
Th' applaufe of lining fenates to command
The threats of pain and ruin to defpife,
And read their hiftory in a nation's eyes.
Their lotforbade: nor circumfcrib'd alone [an.
Forbade to wade through flaughter to a thre
Their growing virtues, but their crimes co
Tre ftrugging pangs of confcious truth to his
And shut the gates of mercy on menkınd
To quench the blues of ingenuous sham
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble ftrife,
With incenfe kindled at the Mute's flame
Their fober withes never learn'd to itray;
Along the cool fequefter'd vale of life,
Yet ev'n thefe bones from infult to protect,
They kept the noitelets tenor of their way
With uncouth rhimes and fhapelets fculpti
Some trail memorial ftill erected nigh,
Impicres the paffing tribute of a figh. [deck
Their name, their years, fpelt by th' unlette:
The place of fame and elegy fupply: [int
And many a holy text around the itrews,
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
That teach the rufic moralift to die.
Left the w.m precincts of the cheerful day,
This pleafing anxious being e'er reign'd,
Nor caft one longing, ling'ring look behind
On fome fond breaft the parting foul relies,
Some pious drops the clofing eye requires:
Ev'n from the tomb, the voice of nature cries
Ev'n in our alhes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dea
Doft in theic fines their artlefs tale relate;
If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Haply fome hoary-headed fwain may fay,
Some kindred spirit fhall inquire thy fate.
Brufhing with hafty fleps the dews away,
"Oft have we feen him at the peep of daw
To meet the fun upon the upland lawn;
There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
That wreathes its old fantaftic roots fo hig
His liftlefs length at noon-tide would he ftretc
And pore upon the brook that bubbles by.
Mutt'ring his wayward fancies,he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Orcraz`d with care, or crois'd in hopelers love:
One morn I miís'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree:
Another came; nor yet befide the rill,
Hard by yond wood, now fimiling, as in fcorn, | At broad noon-day. Thefe,and a thoufand more,
Horrid to tell, attentive wait; and, when
By Heav'n's command Death waves his ebon
Sudden ruth forth to execute his purpote,[wand,
And icatter defolation o'er the Earth.
Nor up the hwn, nor at the wood was he:
The next, with dirges due, in fad array, [borne:
Slow thro' the church-yard path we faw him
Approach and read(for thou canit read) the lay,
Grav'd on the ftone beneath yon aged thorn."
Ill-fated Man, for whom fuch various forms
Of mis'ry wait, and mark their future prey;
Ah! why, all-righteous Father, didit thou make
This creature, Man? why wake th' unconscious
To life and wretchednefs? O better far [duft
Still had he flept in uncreated night,
If this the lot of Being! Was it for this
Thy breath divine kindled within his breaft
The vital flame? For this was thy fair image
Stampt on his foul in godlike lineaments?
For this dominion giv'n him abfolute
THE EPITAPH.
And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere,
Heav'n did a recompence as largely fend:
He gave to Misry all he had, a tear; [a friend.
He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wifh'd)
No farther feek his merits to difclofe,
Here refts his head upon the lap of earth,
A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown;
Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,O'er all thy works, only that he might reign
Supreme in woe? From the bleft fource of Good,
Could Pain and Deathproceed? Couldfuch foulills
Fall from fairMercy's hands? Far be the thought,
The impious thought! God never made a creature
But what was good. He made a living Soul;
The wretched Mortal was the work of Man.
Forth from his Maker's hands he fprung to life,
Fresh with immortal bloom; no pain he knew,
No fear of change, no check to his defires, [frood
Save one command. That one command, which
'Twixt him and Death, the teft of his obedience,
He broke. There in one moment was undone
Urg'd on by wanton curiofity,
The faireft of God's works. The fame rath hand,
That pluck'd in evil hour the fatal fruit,
Unbarr'd the gates of Hell, and let loose Sin
And Death, and all the family of Pain,
To prey upon Mankind. Young Nature faw
The monstrouscrew,andshookthro'all herframe.
Then fled her new-born luftre, then began
Heaven's cheerful face to low'r, then vapours
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose) The bolum of his Father and his God.
§ 38. Death. Dr. Porteus, Bp. of London. FRIEND to the wretch whom every friend forlikes,
I woo thee, Death! In fancy's fairy paths
Let the gay fongfter rove, and gently trill
The train of empty joy. Life and its joys
I leave to thofe that prize them. At this hour,
Tais folemn hour, when filence rules the world,
And wearied nature makes a gen'ral pause;
Wrapt in night's fable robe, through cloysters
And charnel pale, tenanted by a throng [drear
Of meagre phantoms fhooting crofs my path
With filent glance, I feck the fhadowy vale
Of Death. Deep in a murky cave's recefs,
Led by Oblivion's liftlefs ftream, and fenc'd
By theiving rocks, and intermingled horrors
Of yew and cyprefs thade, from all intrufion
Of bafy noontide beam, the Monarch fits
In unatantial majefty enthron'd.
At his right hand, nearest himself in place
And frightfulness of form, his parent Sin
With fital industry and cruel care
Buses herfelf in pointing all his strings,
And tipping every fhaft with venom drawn
From her infernal store; around him rang'd
In terrible array, and mixture ftrange
Oi tacouth fhapes, ftand his dread Minifters.
Foremut Old Age, his natural ally
And Ermelt friend: next him Difeafes thick,
A my train; Fever, with cheek of fire;
Confumption wan; Palfy, half warm with life,
And hamaclay-clod lump; joint-tort'ring Gout,
And eve gnawing Rheum, Convulfion wild;
Swoln Dropiy; panting Afthma; Apoplex
Full-gurg'd. There too the Peftilence that walks
In darkness, and the Sickness that deftroys
choakd
The troubled air, and form'd a veil of clouds
To hide the willing Sun. The earth convuls'd
Of thorns and briars; and Infect, Bird,and Beast,
With painful throes threw forth a briftly crop
That wont before with admiration fond
To gaze at Man, and fearless crowd around him,
Now fled before his face, fhunning in halte
Th'infection of his mifery. He alone
Who justly might, th' offended Lord of Man,
Turn'd not away his face; he, full of pity,
Forfook not in this uttermott diftrefs
His beft lov'dwork. That comfort still remain'd
(That belt, that greatest comfort in affliction)
The countenance of God, and thro' the gloom
Shot forth fome kindly gleams,to cheerandwarm
Th'offender'sfinkingfoul.Hopefentfrom Heav'n
Uprais'd his drooping head, and thew'd afar
A happier scene of things; the Promis'd Seed
Death of his fting difarm'd; and the dark grave,
Trampling upon the Serpent's humbled creft:
Made pervious to the realms of endless day,
No more the limit out the gate of life. [ground
Cheer'd with the view, Man went to till the
From whence he rofe; fentenc'd indeed to toil
As to a punishment, yet (ev`n in wrath,
C4
Yet still they breathe deftruction, ftill go on.
Inhumanly ingenious to find out
New pains for life, new terrors for the grave,
Artificers of Death! Still Monarchs dream
Of univerfal empire growing up
From univerfal ruin. Blaft the defign
Great God of Hofts, nor let thy creatures fall
Unpitied victims at Ambition's fhrine!
Yet fay, fhould Tyrants learn at laft to feel
And the loud din of battle ceafe to bray;
Should dove-eyed Peace o'er all the earth exten
Her olive-branch, and give the world repofe,
Would Death be foil'd? Would health, and
ftrength, and youth
Defy his pow'r? Has he no arts in ftore,
No other fhafts fave thofe of War? Alas!
Ev'n in the fmile of Peace, that smile which thed
A heav'nly funthine o'er the foul, there basks
That ferpent Luxury. War its thousand flays
Peace its ten thousands. In th' embattled plain
Tho' Death exults, and claps his raven wings,
Yet reigns he not ev'n there fo abfolute,
So mercilefs, as in yon frantic scenes
Of midnight revel and tumultuous mirth,
Where in th' intoxicating draught conceal'd,
Or couch'd beneath the glance of lawless love
So merciful is Heav'n) this toil became
The folace of his woes, the fweet employ
Of many a live-long hour, and fureft guard
Against Difeafe and Death. Death, tho' de-
Was yet a diftant ill, by feeble arm [nounc'd
Of Age, his fole fupport, led flowly on.
Not then, as fince the thort-liv'd fons of men
Flock'd to his realms in countless multitudes;
Scarce in the courfe of twice five hundred years,
One folitary gholt went fhiv'ring down
To his unpeopled fhore. In fober state,
Through the fequetter'd vale of rural life,
The venerable Patriarch guilel: fs held
The tens ur of his way; Labour prepar'd
His fimple fare, and Temperance rul'd his board.
Tir'd with his daily toil, at early eve
He funk to fudden reft; gentle and pure
As breath of evening Zephyr, and as sweet,
Were all his fiumbers; with the Sun he rose,
Alert and vigorous as He, to run [ftrength
His deftin'd course. Thus nerv'd with giant
He flemm'd the tide of time, and ftood the thock
Of ages rolling harmless o'er his head.
At life's meridian point arriv'd, he stood,
And, looking round faw all the valleys fill'd
With nations from his loins; full-well content
To leave his race thus fcatter'd o'er the earth,Hefnaresthefimpleyouth,whonoughtfufpecting
Along the gentle flope of life's decline
He bent his gradual way, till, full of years,
He dropp'd like mellow fruit into his grave,
Such in the infancy of Time was Man;
So calm was life, fo impotent was Death!
O had he but preferv'd thefe few remains,
The fhatter'd fragments, of loft happiness,
Snatch'd bythehandor Heav'n from thefid wreck
Of innocence primæval; ftill had he liv'd
In ruin great; tho' fali'n, yet not forlorn;
Though mortal, yet not every where befet
With Death in every fhape! But he, impatient
To be completely wretched, hates to fill up
The menfure of his woes.→ Twas Man himfelf
Brought Death into theworld, and Man himself
Gave keene's to his darts, quicken'd his pace,
And multiply'd destruction on mankind.
First Envy, eldeft born of Hell, embrued
Her hands in blood, and taught the Sons of Men
To make a Death which Nature never made,
And God abhorr`d; with violence rude to break
The thread of life ere half its length was run,
And rob a wretched brother of his being.
With joy Ambition faw, and foon improv'd
The execrable deed. 'Twas not enough
By fubtle fraud to fnatch a fingle life,
Puny impiety! whole kingdoms fell
To fate the luft of power: more horrid still,
The fouleft itain and feandal of our nature,
Became its boat. One Murder made a Villain;
Millions a Hero. Princes were privileg'd
To kill, and numbers fanétined the crime.
Al! why will Kings forget that they are Men
And Men that they are brethren? Why delight
La human facrifice? Why burft the ties
Of Nature, that should knit their fouls together
In one foft bond of amity and love?
Means to be bleft-but finds himself undone.
Down thefmoothftream of life theftriplingdarts
Gay as the morn; bright glows the vernal iky
Hope fwells his fails,and paffion fteers his courfe
Safe glides his little bark along the thore
Where virtue takes her ftand; but if too far
He launches forth beyond difcretion's mark,
Sudden the tempeft fcowls, the furges roar,
Blot his fair day, and plunge him in the deep
O fad but fure mifchance! O happier far
To lie like gallant Howe 'midit Indian wilds
A breathlefs corfe, cut off by favage hands
In earlieft prime, a generous facrifice
To freedom's holy caufe; than fo to fall,
Torn immature from life's meridian joys,
A prey to Vice, Intemp'rance, and Dileafe.
Yet die ev'n thus, thus rather perith fill,
Ye fons of Pleasure, by th' Almighty ftrick'
Than ever dare (though oft, alas! ye dare)
To lift against yourselves the murd'rous fteel
To wreft from God's own hand the fword do
Justice,
And be your own avengers! Hold, rath Man
Though with anticipating fpeed thou 'ft rang
Through every region of delight, nor left
One joy to gild the evening of thy days;
Though life feem one uncomfortable void,
Guilt at thy heels, before thy face defpair;
Yet gay this feene, and light this load of wee
Compar'd with thy hereafter. Think, O thin
And, ere thou plunge into the vast aby is,
Paufe on the verge a while: look down and f
Thy future manfion. Why that fart of horro
From thy flack hand why drops th' uplifted te
Didit thou not think fuch vengeance must awa
The wretch, that with his crimes all fresh abo
Ruthes irreverent, unprepar'd, uncall'd, {bi
If my own mother Earth, from whence I fprung.
Rife up with rage unnatural to devour
Her wretched offspring, whither fhall I fly?
Where look for fuccour? Where, but up to thes,
Almighty Father? Save, O fave, thy fuppliant
From horrors fuch as thefe! At thy good time
Letdeathapproach; 1 reck not-let him but come
In genuine form, not with thy vengeancearm'd,
Too much for man to bear. O rather lend
Thy kindly aid to mitigate his stroke;
And at that hour when all aghaft I stand
(A trembling candidate for thy compaflion)
On this World's brink, and look into the next;
When my foul, ftarting from the dark unknown,
Caits back a wifhful look, and fondly clings
To her frail prop, unwilling to be wrench'd
From this fair fcene, from all her cuftom'd joys,
And all the lovely relatives of life;
Then fhed thy comforts o'er me, then put on
The gentleft of thy looks. Let no dark crimes,
In all their hideous forms then starting up,
Plant themselves round my couch in grim array,
And ftab my bleeding heart with two-edg'd
Into his Maker's prefence, throwing back
With infolent difdain his choiceft gift?
Live then, while Heav'n in pity lends thee life,
And think it all too short to wash away,
By penitential tears and deep contrition,
The scarlet of thy crimes. So fhalt thou find
Ret to thy foul; fo unappall'd shall meet
Death when he comes, not wantonly invite
His ling ring ftroke. Be it thy fole concern
With innocence to live: with patience wait
Th'appointed hour, toofoon that hour will come,
The Nature ran her courfe. But Nature's God,
If need require, by thoufand various ways,
Without thy aid can thorten that short span,
And quench the lamp of lite. O when he comes,
Reus'd by the cry of wickedness extreme,
To heav'n afcending from fome guilty land,
Now ripe for vengeance; when he comes array'd
In all the terrors of Almighty wrath,
Forth from his bolom plucks his ling ring arm,
And on the mifcreants pours destruction down;
Who can abide his coming? Who can bear
His whole dipleature? In no common form
Death then appears, but starting into fize
Enormous, mea'ures with gigantic ftride
Th`altezilh`d Earth, and from his locks throws
Unatterable horror and difinay. [round,
All Nature lends her aid, each Element
Arms in his caufe. Ope fly the doors of Heav'n;
The fountains of the deep their barriers break;
Above, below, the rival torrents pour,
And drown Creation: or in floods of fire
Defcends a livid cataract, and confumes (peace, Whom foft-eyed Pityonce led down from leav'n
An impious race. Sometimes, when all feems To bleed for man, to teach him how to live,
Wakes thegrimwhirlwind,andwithrudeembrace And, oh! ftill harder leffon! how to die;
Sweeps nations to their grave, or in the deep Ditdain not Thou to fmooth the restlefs bed
Whelms the proud wooden world; full many Of Sicknefs and of Pain Forgive the tear
Floats on his wat 'ry bier, or lies unwept [youth That feeble Nature drops, calm all her fears,
On fome fid deiart fhore! At dead of night, Wake all her hopes, and animate her faith,
In fullen filence ftalks forth Pestilence:
Till my rapt Soul, anticipating Heav'n,
Contagion close behind taints all her fteps Burfts from the thraldom of incumb'ring clay,
With pois nous dew; no fmiting hand is feen, And on the wing of Ecfiafy upborne,
No found is heard, but foon her fecret path Springs into Liberty, and Light, and Life.
Is mark'd with defolation; heaps on heaps
Promiscuous drop. No friend, no refuge, near;
A, all, is falfe and treacherous around;
All that they touch,or tafte,or breathe, is Death.
a
Butab! what meansthat ruinous roar? why fail
Thefe tott ring feet? Earth to it's centre feels
TheGodhead'spower,and tremblingat his touch
Through all its pillars, and in ev'ry pore,
Hurls to the ground, with one convulfive heave,
Precipitating domes, and towns, and tow'rs,
The work of ages. Crush'd beneath the weight
Of general devaftation, millions find
One common grave; not ev'n a widow left
To waiter fons: the houfe, that should protect,
Entomb his matter; and the faithless plain,
If there te flies for help, with fudden yawn
Starts from beneath him. Shield me, gracious
Har'n,
Men fhiver when thou'rt nam'd: Nature appall'd
Shakes off her wonted firmnefs. Ah! how dark
Thy long-extended realms, and rueful wastes;
Where nought but filence reigns,and night,dark
Dark as was Chaos ere the infant Sun [night,
O fnatch me from deftruction! If this Globe,
This folid Globe, which thine own hand hath
So firm and fure, if this my steps betray ;[made Was roll'd together, or had tried its beams
Athwart
torture,
Senfe of paft guilt, and dread of future woe.
Far be the ghaftly crew! And in their stead
Let cheerful Memory from her pureft cells
Lead forth a goodly train of Virtues fair,
Cherifh d in earlielt youth, now paying back
With tenfold ufury the pious care,
And pouring o'er my wounds the heav'nlybalm
Of conscious innocence. But chiefly, Thou,
$39. The Grave. Blair.
"The house appointed for all living." JCB.
WHILST fome affect the fun, and fome the
fhade,
Some flee the city, fome the hermitage,
Their aims as various as the roads they take
In journeying through life; the tafk be mine
To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb;
Th'appointed place of rendezvous, where all
Thefe trav'llers meet. Thy fuccours I implore,
Eternal King, whofe potent arm sustains
The keys of hell and death. The Grave, dread
thing!
The paft endearments of their fofter hours,
Tenacious of its theme. Still, ftill the thin
She fees him, and, indulging the fond thoug
Clings yet more clofely to the fenfelefs tur
Nor heeds the paffenger who looks that way
Athwart the gloon profound! The fickly taper, | Prone on the lonely grave of the dear man
By glimm'ring thro'thy low-brow'd miftyvaults, She drops; whilft bufy meddling Memory
Furr'd round with mouldy damps,and ropylime, In barbarous fucceffion, mufters up
Lets fall a fupernumerary horror,
And only ferves to make thy night more irkfome.
Well do I know thee by thy trufty yew,
Cheerlefs, unfocial plant! That loves to dwell
Midft fculls and coffins, epitaphs and worms;
Where light-heel'd ghofts and vifionary fhades,
Beneath the wan cold moon (as fame reports)
Embodied thick, perform their mystic rounds.
No other merriment, dull tree! is thine.
Invidious Grave! how doft thou rend in fung Whom love has knit, and fympathy made on A tie more stubborn far than nature's band Friendship! myfterious cement of the foul Sweet'ner of life, and folder of society!
owe thee much. Thou haft deserv'd from m Far, far beyond what I can ever pay.
See yonder hallow'd fane! the pious work Of names once fam'd, now dubious or forgot,I And buried midftthewreck of things which were: There lie interr'd the more illuftrious dead. Oft have I prov'd the labours of thy love, The wind is up: hark! how it howls! Methinks And the warm efforts of the gentle heart Till now, I never heard a found fo dreary: [bird Anxious to please. O when my friend an Doors creak, and windows clap, and night's foul In fome thick wood have wandered heedlefs Rook'd in the fpire fcreams loud; the gloomyaifles Hid from the vulgar eye, and fet us down `Black plafter'd, and hung round with fhreds of Upon the floping cowflip-cover'd bank, fcutcheons, Where the pure limpid ftream has flid along And tatter'd coats of arms, fend back the found In grateful errors tho' the underwood [thru Laden with heavier airs, from the low vaults,Sweet murm'ring, methought,the fhrill-tongu The manfions of the dead. Rous'd from their Mended his fong of love; the footy blackbin In grim array the grifly spectres rife, [lumbers, Mellow'd his pipe, and foften'd every note; Grin horrible, and obftinately fullen The eglantine fmell'd fweeter, and the rose Pafs and repafs, hufh'd as the foot of night. Aflum'd a dye more deep; whilft ev'ry flow` Again!thefcreech-owlfhrieks: ungraciousfound! Vied with his fellow-plant in luxury I'll hear no more; it makes one's blood run chil!. Of drefs. Oh! then the longest fummer's d Quite round the pile, a row of rev'rend elms, Seem'd too, too much in hafte; still the full he Coæval near with that, all ragged fhew, [down Had not imparted half: 'twas happiness Long lath'd by the rude winds: fome rift half Too exquifite to last. Of joys departed, Their branchless trunks; others fo thin a-top, Not to return, how painful the remembranc That scarce two crows could lodge in the fame Dull Grave thou fpoil'ft the dance of your
Strange things, the neighbours fay, have hap-Strik'it out the dimple from the cheek of mi
Wild thrieks have iflued from the hollow tombs,
Dead men have come again, and walk'd about;
And the great bell has toll'd, unrung, untouch'd.
Such tales their cheer, at wake or goffipping.
When it draws near to witching time of night.
Oft in the lone church-yard at night I've feen,
By glimpse of moonshine, cheq'ring thro' the
The school-boy, with his fatchel in his hand,
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up,
And lightly tripping o'er the long flat ftones
(With nettles kirted,and with mots o'ergrown)
That tell in homely phrafe who lie below;
Sudden he starts and hears, or thinks he hears,
The found of fomething purring at his heels,
Full faft he dies, and dares not look behind him,
Till out of breath he overtakes his fellows;
Who gather round, and wonder at the tale
Of horrid apparition, tall and ghaftly,
That walks at dead of night, or takes his ftand
O'er fome new-open'd grave; and, ftrange to tell!
Evanishes at crowing of the cock.
The new made widowtoo I've fometimes fpied,
Sad fight? flow moving o'er the proftrate dead:
Intlefs, the crawls along in doleful black,
While hurts of forrow gufh from either eye,
Fat-falling down her now untafted cheek.
And ev'ry fmirking feature from the face,
Branding our laughter with the nameof madn
Where are the jetters now? the man of hear
Complexionally pleasant? where the droll?
Whofe ev'ry look and gesture was a joke
To clapping theatres and shouting crowds,
And made ev'n thick-lipp'd mufing Melanch
To gather up her face into a fmile
Before the was aware? Ah! fullen now,
And dumb as the green turf that covers the
Where are the mighty thunderbolts of w
The Roman Cæfars and the Grecian chiefs,
The boast of ftory? Where thehot-brain'd you
Who the tiara at his pleasure tore
From kings of all the then difcover'd glob
And cried, forfooth, because his arm was h
And had notroom enough to do itswork? [p
Alas! how flim, difhonourably flim!
And cramm'd into a space we blush to nam
Proud royalty! how alter'd in thy looks!
How blank thy features, and how wan thy
Son of the morning! whither art thou gon
Where haft thou hid thy many-fpangled he
And the majestic menace of thine eyes
Felt from afar? Pliant and powerless now,
Like new-born infant bound up in his fwat
Or victim tumbled flat upon his back.
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