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While some, on earnest business bent, Lo! in the vale of years beneath
A grisly troop are seen, 'Gainst graverhours, that bring constraint | The painful family of Death, To sweeten liberty,
More hideous than their queen: Some bold adventurers disdain
This racks the joints, this fires the veins, The limits of their little reign,
That every laboring sinew strains, And unknown regions dare descry: Those in the deeper vitals rage:
Still as they run, they look behind; Lo! Poverty, to fill the band,
They hear a voice in every wind, That numbs the soul with icy hand; And snatch a fearful joy.
And slow-consuming Age. Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,
To each his sufferings : all are men, Less pleasing when possessed;
Condemned alike to groan; The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The tender for another's pain, The sunshine of the breast.
The unfeeling for his own. Theirs buxom health of rosy hue,
Yet, ah! why should they know their Wild wit, invention ever new,
fate, And lively cheer of vigor born;
Since sorrow never comes too late, The thoughtless day, the easy night,
And happiness too swiftly flies ! The spirits pure, the slumbers light, Thought would destroy their paradise. That fly the approach of morn.
No more; where ignorance is bliss,
'T is folly to be wise. Alas! regardless of their doom,
The little victims play;
Nor care beyond to-day;
DIRGE IN CYMBELINE. To seize their prey, the murtherous band;
To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Ah, tell them they are men!
Soft maids and village hinds shall bring
Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, These shall the fury passions tear,
And rifle all the breathing spring. The vultures of the inind, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,
No wailing ghost shall dare appear And Shame, that skulks behind; To vex with shrieks this quiet grove; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, But shepherd lads assemble here, Or Jealousy with rankling tooth,
And melting virgins own their love. That inly gnaws the secret heart;
And Envy wan, and faded Care, No withered witch shall here be seen,
Grim-visaged, comfortless Despair, No goblins lead their nightly crew; And Sorrow's piercing dart.
But female fays shall haunt the green,
And dress thy grave with pearly dew. Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
Then whirl the wretch from high, The redbreast oft at evening hours To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,
Shall kindly lend his little aid, And grinning Infamy.
With hoary moss and gathered flowers The stings of Falsehood those shall try, Todeck the ground where thou art laid. And hard Unkindness' altered eye, That mocks the tear it forced to flow; When howling winds and beating rain
And keen Remorse with blood defiled, In tempest shake the sylvan cell,
And moody Madness laughing wild Or midst the chase upon the plain, Amid severest woe.
The tender thought on thee shall dwell.
Each lonely scene shall thee restore,
For thee the tear be duly shed; Beloved till life can charın no more,
And mourned till Pity's self be dead.
Or, if chill, blustering winds, or driving
That from the mountain's side
And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered ODE TO EVENING,
spires; IF aught of oaten stop or pastoral song
And hears their simple bell, and marks
o'er all May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy modest ear,
Thy dewy fingers dra iv
The gradual, dusky veil.
While Spring shall pour his showers, as O nymph reserved, while now the bright
oft he wont, haired Sun
And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy
While Summer loves to sport With braid ethereal wove,
Beneath thy lingering light; O'erhang his wavy bed :
While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with. Now air is hushed, save where the weak
leaves; eyed bat,
Or Winter, yelling through the troublous With short, shrill shriek flits by on leath air, ern wing;
Affrights thy shrinking train, Or where the beetle winds
And rudely rends thy robes,His small but sullen horn,
So ng, regardful of thy quiet rule, As oft he rises midst the twilight path, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Against the pilgrim bornein heedless hum; Peace, Now teach me, maid composed,
Thy gentlest influence own, To breathe some softened strain, And love thy favorite name!
Whose numbers, stealing through thy
darkening vale, May not unseemly with its stillness suit; As, musing slow, I hail
JAMES MERRICK. Thy genial, loved return!
(1720 - 1769.)
Oft has it been mv lot to mark
A proud, conceitei, talking spark, And many a Nymph who wreathes her With eyes that hardly served at most brows with sedge,
To guard their master 'gainst a post; And sheds the freshening dew, and, love. Yet round the world the blade lias beer, lier still,
To see whatever could be seen.
Grown ten times perter than before ;
Whatever word you chance to drop, Then let me rove some wild and heathy The travelled fool your mouth will stop : scene;
“Sir, if my judgment you 'll allowOr find some min midst its dreary dells, I've seen and sure I ought to know;" Whose walls more awful nod
So begs you
a due submission,
And acquiesce in his decision.
Two travellers of such a cast,
| Both stared; the man looked wondrous As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed,
wise And on their way, in friendly chat, “My children,” the chameleon cries Now talked of this, and then of that, (Then first the creature found a tongue), Discoursed awhile, 'mongst other mat "You all are right, and all are wrong: ter,
When next you talk of what you view, Of the chameleon's form and nature. Think others see as well as you; "A stranger animal," cries one,
Nor wonder if you find that none
(1728 - 1774.)
FROM "THE DESERTED VILLAGE." And warmed it in the sunny ray ;. Stretcher at its ease the beast I viewed, SWEET was the sound, when oft, at And saw it eat the air for food."
evening's close “I've seen it, sir, as well as you, Up yonder hill the village murmur rose; And must again affirm it blue;
There, as I passsed with careless steps and At leisure I the beast surveyed
slow, Extended in the cooling shaile."
The mingling notes came softened from “'T is green,
't is green, sir, I assure below; ye.
The swain responsive as the milkmail "Green!” cries the other in a fury;
sung, "Why, sir, d'ye think I've lost my The sober herd that lowed to meet their
young; “'T were no great loss," the friend replies; The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, *For if they always serve you thus, The playful children just let loose froin You 'll find them but of little use.'
school; So high at last the contest rose, The watch-dog's voice that bayed the From words they almost came to blows: whispering wind, When luckily came by a third ;
And the loud laugh that spoke the racant To him the question they referred,
mind, And begged he'd tell them, if he knew, These all in sweet confusion sought the Whether the thing was green or blue.
shade, “Sirs," cries the umpire, “cease your And filled each pause the nightingale had pother;
made. The creature's neither one nor t' other. But now the sounds of population fail, I caught the animal last night,
No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in tie And viewed it o'er by candlelight;
gale, I marked it well, 't was black as jet- No busy steps the grass-grown footway You stare – but, sirs, I've got it yet,
tread, And can produce it." -- "Pray, sir, do; But all the bloomy flush of life is fled. I 'll lay my life the thing is blue." All but yon widowed, solitary thing, “And I 'll be sworn, that when you ’ve That feebly bends beside the plaslıy
spring; The reptile, you 'll pronounce him green." She, wretched matron, forced in age, for “Well, then, at once to ease the doubt," bread, Replies the man, “I'll turn him out; To strip the brook with mantling cresses And when before your eyes I've set him, spread, If you don't find him black, I 'll eat him.' To pick her wintry fagot from the thorn,
He said; and full before their sight To seek her nightly shed, and weep till Produced the beast, and lo!-- 'twas white. morn;
She only left of all the harmless train, And, as a bird each fond endearment The sad historian of the pensive plain.
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the Near yonder copse, where once the skies, garden smiled,
He tried each art, reproved each dull And still where many a garden Power delay, grows wild,
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the There, where a few torn shrubs the place way.
disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion Beside the bed where parting life was
laid, A man he was to all the country dear, And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns And passing rich with forty pounds a dismayed, year;
The reverend champion stood. At his Remote from towns he ran his godly race, control, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to Despair and anguish fled the struggling change, his place;
soul; Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power, Comfort came down the trenubling wretch By doctrines fashioned to the varying to raise, hour;
And his last, faltering accents whispered Far other aims his heart had learned to praise.
prize, More skilled to raise the wretched than At church, with meek and unaffected to rise.
grace, His house was known to all the vagrant His looks adorned the venerable place; train,
Truth from his lips prevailed with double He chid their wanderings, but relieved sway, their pain;
And fools, who came to scoff, remained The long-remembered beggar was his guest,
The service past, around the pious man, Whose beard descending swept his aged With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran; breast;
Even children followed, with endearing The ruined spendthrift, now no longer wile, proud,
And plucked his gown, to share the good Claimed kindred there, and had his man's smile. claims allowed ;
His ready smile a parent's warmth exThe broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, pressed, Sat by his fire,' and talked the night Their welfare pleased him, and their cares away;
distressed; Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow To them his heart, his love, his griefs, done,
were given, Shouldered his crutch, and showed how But all his serious thoughts had rest in fields were won.
heaven. Pleased with his guests, the good man As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, learned to glow,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
the storm, Careless their merits or their faults to Though round its breast the rolling clouds
are spread, His pity gave ere charity began.
Eternal sunshine settles on its head. Thus to relieve the wretched was his Beside yon straggling fence that skirts
pride, And even his failings leaned to virtue's With blossomed furze un profitably gay, side:
There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, But in his duty prompt at every call, The village master taught hislittleschool. He watched and wept, he prayed and A man severe he was, and stern to view; felt for all;
I knew him well, and every truant knew :
nel gay ;
Well had the boding tremblers learned the hearth, except when winter chilled to trace
the day, The day's disasters in his morning face; With aspen boughs and flowers and fenFull well they laughed, with counterfeited glee,
While broken teacups, wisely kept for At all his jokes, for many a joke had he; show, Full well the busy whisper, circling round, Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a Conveyed the dismal tidings when he
frowned. Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught,
Vain, transitory splendors ! could not The love he bore to learning was in fault. all The village all declared how much he Reprieve the tottering mansion from its knew;
fall? 'T was certain he could write, and cipher Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart too;
An hour's importance to the poor man's Lands he could measure, times and tides
Thither no more the peasant shall repair Andeven the story ran that he could gauge; To sweet oblivion of his duily care; In arguing, too, the parsonowned hisskill, No more the farmer's news, the barber's For, even though vanquished, he could tale,
No more the woodman's ballad shall preWhile words of learned length and thun vail; dering sound
No more the smith his dusky brow shall Amazed the gazing rusties ranged around; clear, And still they gazed, and still the wonder Relax his ponderous strength, and lean grew
to hear. That one small head could carry all he The host himself no longer shall be found knew.
Careful to see the mantling blissgo round;
Northe coy maid, half willing to be prest, But past is all his fame. The very spot Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. Where many a time he triumphed is for
got. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on
high, Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye,
THOMAS PERCY. Low lies that house where nut-brown dranghts inspired,
(1728 - 1811.) Where gray-beard mirth and smiling toil retired,
THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY. Where village statesmen talked with looks profound,
It was a friar of orders gray And news much older than their ale went Walked forth to tell his beads, round.
And he met with a lady fair, Imagination fondly stoops to trace
Clad in a pilgrim's weeds. The parlor splendors of that festive place: The whitewashed wall; the nicely sanded “Now Christ thee save, thou reverend floor;
friar! The varnished clock that clicked behind
1 the door;
pray thee tell to me, The chest, contrived a double debt to pay,
If ever at yon holy shrine
My true-love thou didst see." A bed by night, a chest of drawers by
day; The pictures placed for ornament and “And how should I know your true-love use;
From many another one?" The twelve good rules; the royal game of “Oh! by his cockle hat, and staff, goose;
And by his sandal shoon;