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aged bear beneath blood boast breath cheer close comes common cruel dark dead Death deep dread drops dust earth ev'n ev'ry face fair fall fame fear fire gentle give gloomy gone grave half hand happy hard hast head hear heart Heav'n hold hope horrors hour joys keep leave lies life's live look lord meet mighty nature ne'er never night o'er once pain path Peace poor pow'r proud rest rise rose round rude ruin Save scarce shade short Sickness sight silence smile sons soon soul sound spoils stand steps stone strange stream sudden Sure sweet tell thee thick thine thing thou thought thousand thro tomb wake warm waste weary Whilst whole winds wretch yonder youth
29 psl. - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No 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 team a-field ! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke...
31 psl. - With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered muse, The place of fame and elegy supply; And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.
29 psl. - Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?
50 psl. - 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.
50 psl. - 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...
50 psl. - 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.
31 psl. - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind; The struggling pangs of conscious truth...
3 psl. - WHILST some affect the sun, and some the shade, Some flee the city, some the hermitage ; Their aims as various, as the roads they take In journeying through life ; the task be mine To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb ; Th' appointed place of rendezvous, where all These travellers meet.