Beneath those 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 sleep. The breezy call of incenfe-breathing morn, For them no more the blazing hearth fhall burn, Oft did the harveft to their fickle yield, Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, The boaft of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, 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 Thefe the fault, If Mem❜ry o'er their Tomb no Trophies raife, Where thro' the long-drawn ifle and fretted vault The pealing anthem fwells the note of praise. Can ftoried urn or animated bust Back to its manfion call the fleeting breath? Perhaps in this neglected fpot is laid But But knowledge to their eyes her ample page. Full many a gem of pureft ray ferene, Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breaft Th' applaufe of lift'ning fenates to command, Their lot forbad: nor circumfcrib'd alone The ftruggling pangs of confcious truth to hide, Far from the madding crowd's ignoble ftrife, Yet, ev'n these bones from infult to protect, Some frail memorial ftill erected nigh, With uncouth rhimes and fhapelefs fculpture deck'd, Implores the paffing tribute of a figh.. 71 Their name, their years, fpelt by th' unletter'd Mufe, The place of fame and elegy fupply: And many a holy text around the ftrews, That teach the ruftic moralift to die. For For who to dumb Forgetfulnefs a prey,' This pleafing anxious being e'er refign'd, Left the warm precincts of the chearful day, Nor caft one longing, ling'ring look behind? On fome fond breaft the parting foul relies, For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead Haply fome hoary-headed fwain may say, There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots fo high, His liftless length at noon-tide would he ftretch, • And pour upon the brook that babbles by. 'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in fcorn, 'Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove; Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, 'Or craz'd with care, or crofs'd in hopeless love. 'One morn I mifs'd him on th' cuftom'd hill, Along the heath and near his fav'rite tree: 'Another came; nor yet befide the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he. 'The next with dirges due in fad array 'Slow through the church-way path we faw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'ft read) the lay, "Grav'd on the ftone beneath yon aged thorn." THE E PIT A PH. ERE refts his head upon the lap of Earth HEA A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown: Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, Larg Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere," He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wifh'd) a friend. No farther feek his merits to disclose, HYMN TO ADVERSITY. [GRAY.] AUGHTER of Jove, relentless power, Whose iron fcourge and tort'ring hour, With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone, When first thy fire to fend on earth Virtue, his darling child, defign'd, To thee he gave the heav'nly birth, And bade to form her infant mind. Stern rugged nurfe! thy rigid lore With patience many a year the bore: What forrow was, thou bad'ft her know, And from her own fhe learn'd to melt at others' woe. Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly Self-pleafing Folly's idle brood, Wild Laughter, Noife, and thoughtless Joy, And leave us leifure to be good. Light they difperfe, and with them go The fummer friend, the flatt'ring foe; By vain Profperity receiv'd, To her they vow their truth, and are again believ❜d. Wifdom in fable garb array'd Immers'd in rapt'rous thought profound, With leaden eye, that loves the ground, E Still Still on thy folemn fteps attend: Warm Charity, the gen'ral friend, And Pity, dropping foft the fadly-pleafing tear. Oh, gently on thy fuppliant's head, With thund'ring voice, and threat'ning mien, Thy form benign, oh Goddefs, wear, Thy philofophic train be there To foften, not to wound my heart. Exact my own defects to scan, What others are, to feel, and know myself a man. ODE on a distant Profpect of ETON COLLEGE, [GRAY.] 7E diftant fpires, ye antique towers, That crown the wat❜ry glade, Where grateful fcience ftill adores Her HENRY's holy fhade; And ye that from the ftately brow Of WINDSOR's heights th' expanfe below Of grove, of lawn, of mead furvey, Whofe turf, whofe fhade, whofe flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His filver-winding way. Ah happy hills, ah pleafing fhade, Ah fields belov'd in vain, Where once my careless childhood ftray'd, A ftranger yet to pain! I feel the gales, that from ye blow, A momentary blifs beftow, As |