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Nor children run to lisp their sire's return,
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 teams 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,
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 these the fault,'
If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
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 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 sway'd, Or waked to extacy the living lyre.

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,

And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full

of purest ray serene,

many a gem
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.

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.

Th' applause of listening 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,
Their lot forbade nor circumscribed alone

Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined: Forbade to wade through slaughter to a 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 learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,

With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelt by the unletter'd 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 resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,

Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind? On some fond breast the parting soul relies,

Some pious drops the closing eye requires; Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of the unhonor'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate,
If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,

Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate:
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say-

"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn, "Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,

"To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech

"That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, "His listless length at noontide would he stretch, "And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, "Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove; "Now drooping, woful, wan, like one forlorn,

"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 favorite tree;
"Another came, nor yet beside the rill,
the lawn, nor at the wood was he:

"Nor up

"The next, with dirges due, in sad array,

"Slow through the church-yard 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,

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. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere ; Heaven did a recompence as largely send: He gave to misery all he had, a tear;

He gain'd from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.

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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.

ODE TO ADVERSITY.
BY THOMAS GRAY.

DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless Power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge and torturing hour
The bad affright, afflict the best!
Bound in thy adamantine chain,
The proud are taught to taste of pain,

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And purple tyrants vainly groan,
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied, and alone.

When first thy Sire to send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, design'd,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,
And bade to form her infant mind.
Stern, rugged nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore ;

What sorrow was, thou badest her know:

And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe..

Scared at thy frown terrific, fly

Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,

Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,
And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse; and with them go
The summer-friend, the flattering foe;
By vain Prosperity received,

To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.

Wisdom, in sable garb array'd,

Immersed in rapturous thought profound,

And Melancholy, silent maid,

With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend:

Warm Charity, the general friend,
With Justice, to herself severe,

And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.

Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head,

Dread Goddess, lay thy chastening hand!
Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with the vengeful band,
(As by the impious thou art seen)

With thundering voice, and threatening mien,.

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