On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires; F'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'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, Mutt'ring his wayward fancies, he would rove;

E

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 fav'rite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill,

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

"The next, with dirges due in sad array

Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne; Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay

Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."

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.

28

AN ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,

Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to misry (all he had) a tear,

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

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.