Thomas Gray

The verse adorn again Fierce War, and faithful Love, And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.

Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear; They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings, Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings.

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight, Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!

Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.

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, hushed in …

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.

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

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

Ruin seize thee, ruthless King! Confusion on thy banners wait, Though fanned by Conquest's crimson wing They mock the air with idle state.

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.

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.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heav'n did a recompense as largely send: He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a tear, He gained from Heav'n ('twas all he wished) a friend.

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown. Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth. And Melancholy marked him for her own.

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.

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.

E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our Ashes live their wonted Fires.

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 ling'ring look behind?

And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

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.

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

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 hist'ry in a nation's eyes.

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.

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.