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A

COLLECTION

O F

POEMS

IN SIX VOLUME S.

BY

SEVERAL HANDS.

LONDON: Printed by J. HUCHS,

For J. DODSLEY, in PALL-MALL.
MDCCLXVI.

[blocks in formation]

An EL EGY

WRITTEN IN A

COUNTRY CHURCH YARD.

T

By Mr. GRA Y.

HE curfew tolls the knell of parting day,

The lowing herd wind flowly o'er the lea, The plowman homewards plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the fight,
And all the air a folemn ftillness holds,

Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight,

And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

VOL. IV.

A

Save

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r
The mopeing 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 heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,

The rude Forefathers of the hamlet fleep.

The breezy call of incenfe-breathing Morn,
The fwallow twittering from the ftraw-built fhed,
The cock's fhrill clarion, or the echoing horn
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or bufy houfwife ply her evening care:
No children run to lifp their fire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kifs to share.

Oft did the harvest to their fickle yield,
Their furrow oft the ftubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their teem afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obfcure;
Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,
The short and simple annals of the poor.

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