308 ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. Where through the long-drawn aisle and | To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade; nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined, Back to its mansion call the fleeting Forbade to wade through slaughter to a breath? Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death? Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire, Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre; But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage And froze the genial current of the soul. Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 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 listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, throne And shut the gates of mercy on mankind; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet, even these bones from insult to protect, Some frail memorial, still erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply, 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 resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind? Along the heath and near his favorite Can you bear me to talk with you frankly? There is much that heart could say, you know we were children togetherhave quarrelled and "made up" in play. And so, for the sake of old friendship, I ven- | And ture to tell you the truth And you? Have you aimed at the highest? As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I Have you looked upon evil unsullied? have might in our earlier youth. you conquered it undismayed? Have you too grown purer and wiser as the months and the years have rolled on? Did you meet her this morning rejoicing in the triumph of victory won? Nay, hear me the truth cannot harm you. When to-day in her presence you stood, Was the hand that you gave her as white and clean as that of her womanhood? Go measure yourself by her standard; look She cannot look down to her lover: her love, He must stand by her side or above her who Now farewell! For the sake of old friendship That glittered like stars by the light of the moon? Her face has the look worn by those who with God and his angels have talked; The white robes she wears are less white than Oh, why are these dewdrops dissolving so Hath the sun in his wrath chased their brightness away, As though nothing that's lovely might live for a day? THE TZAR AND THE SHEPHERDS. TH HE tzar has wandered from the citygate The moonlight has faded, the flowers still To seek seclusion from the cares of state, remain, But the dewdrops have fled from their petals again." And thus he mused: "What troubles equal mine? That I accomplish when I purpose this. In vain I bid the sun of concord shine, "My child," said the father, "look up to And toil unwearied for my subjects' bliss: the skies; Its brightness lasts a moment, and the tzar Behold yon bright rainbow, those beautiful For the state's safety is compelled to war. dyes: There, there are the dewdrops in glory re set; 'Midst the jewels of heaven they are glittering yet. God knows I love my subjects-fain would bless them, But oft mistake, and injure and oppress them. I seek for truth, but courtiers all deceive me; And thus we are taught by each beautiful They fill their purses and deluded leave me. 'Tis but borne from this earth to beam Looked up, and saw wide scattered o'er the brighter in heaven." Alas for the father! how little knew he could be, glen The poor lean flocks: the sheep had lost their lambs, And the strayed lambkins bleated for their dams; That the beautiful child-a bright star of his They fled from place to place, alarmed, He cries, he beats his breast, he tears his | The monarch lost all patience now: hair, Invoking death in agonized despair. "Behold my picture," said His Majesty: "Here is another sovereign, just like me; I'm glad to know vexations travel far And plague a shepherd as they plague a tzar." And on he moved in more contented moodWhither, he knew not; but beyond the wood He saw the loveliest flock that ever grazed, And lingered, mute with wonder, as he gazed. How strong! how sleek! how satisfied! how fair! Wool soft as silk, and, piled in luxury there, Its golden burden seemed too great to bear; The lambs, as if they ran for wagers, playing, Or near their dams, or far, securely straying, "Ah!" said the tzar, "ye little think And so it was as if the wolf had heard, But the dogs the wily traitor knew, His blood has for his daring paid, For very wantonness and cruelty. He saw a stork just lighted on the ground And, bending his strong bow, he straightway aimed His keenest arrow at its panting heart. And the lambkin that through fear had The lucky arrow missed a vital part— |