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Now falling with foft flumbrous weight, inclines
Our eyelids. Other creatures all day long
Rove idle, unemploy'd, and lefs need reft;
Man hath his daily work of body or mind
Appointed, which declares his dignity,
And the regard of Heav'n on all his ways;
While other animals unactive range,

And of their doings God takes no account.
To-morrow, ere fresh morning ftreak the east
With first approach of light, we must be ris'n,
And at our pleafant labour, to reform

Yon flow'ry arbours, yonder alleys green,
Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown,
That mock our fcant manuring, and require
More hands than ours to lop their wanton growth:
Those bloffoms also, and those dropping gums,
That he beftrown, unfightly and unfmooth,
Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with eafe
Meanwhile, as Nature wills, night bids us reft.
To whom thus Eve, with perfect beauty adorn'd.
My author and difpofer! what thou bidst
Unargu'd I obey, fo God ordains:

God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more
Is woman's happiest knowledge, and her praife.
With thee converfing, I forget all time;

All feafons, and their change; all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rifing fweet,
With charm of earliest birds; pleafant the fun,
When firft on this delightful land he fpreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flow'r,
Glift'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
After foft fhow'rs; and fweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild; then filent night,
With this her folemn bird, and this fair moon,
And thefe the gems of heav'n, her ftarry train:
But neither breath of morn, when the afcends
With charm of earliest birds; nor rifing fun
On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flow'r,
Glift'ring with dew; nor fragrance after fhow'rs;
Nor grateful evening mild; nor filent night,
With this her folemn bird; nor walk by moon,
Or glitt'ring ftar-light,-without thee is fweet.

S2

Thus

Thus at their fhady lodge arriv'd, both stood, Both turn'd, and under open sky ador'd

'The God that made both sky, air, earth, and heav'n,
Which they beheld; the moon's refplendent globe,
And ftarry pole: Thou alfo mad't the night,
Maker omnipotent, and then the day,
Which we, in our appointed work employed,
Have finish'd; happy in our mutual help
And mutual love, the crown of all our blifs,
Ordain'd by thee; and this delicious place,"
For ús too large; where thy abundance wants
Partakers, and uncropt falls to the ground:
But thou haft promis'd from us two a race
To fill the earth, who fhall with us extol
Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake,
And when we feek as now, thy gift of fleep.

X, Elegy writion in a Country Churchyard.
THE curfew tolls the kneil of parting day;

The lowing herd wind flowly o'er the lea;
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world-to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimm'ring landfeape on the fight,
And all the air a folemn fdlnefs holds;
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the diftant folds;
Save, that, from youder ivy-mantled tow,
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of fuch, as wand'ring near her fecret bow'r,.
Moleft her ancient folitary reign.

Beneath thefe 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 twitt'ring from the ftraw-built fhed,
The cock's fhrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more fhall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or bufy housewife ply her evening-care;

4

No children run to lifp their fire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kifs to fhare.

Oft did the harveft to their fickle 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!
Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obfcure;
Nor grandeur hear, with a difdainful smile, -
The hort and fimple annals of the poor.

The boast 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, impate to these the fault,
If mem❜ry o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where, through the long-drawn aifle and fretted vaulty-
The pealing anthem fwells the note of praise :
Can ftory'd urn, or animated buft,

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Back to its manfion call the fleeting breath?
Can honour's voice provoke the filent duft,
Or flatt'ry footh the dull cold ear of death?

Perhaps, in this neglected spot, is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have fway'd,
Or wak'd to ecftacy the living lyre:

But knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the fpoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill penury reprefs'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the foul.
Full many a gem of pureft ray ferene,
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear :
Full many a flow'r is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

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Some village Hampden, that, with dauntlefs breaft,
The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
Some mute inglorious Milton, here may reft;
Some Cromwell, guiltlefs of his country's blood,

Th' applaufe of lift'ning fenates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,-
To fcatter plenty o'er a fmiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,

Their lot forbade: nor circumfcrib'd alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd;
Forbade to wade through flaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;
The ftruggling pangs of conscious truth to hide;
To quench the blushes of ingenuous fhame;
Or heap the fhrine of luxury and pride,
With incenfe kindled at the mufe's flame.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble flrife,
Their fober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool fequefter'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Yet even 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.

Their name, their years, fpelt by the unletter'd mufe; ;
The place of fame and elegy supply;

And many a holy text around fhe ftrews,,
That teach the ruftic moralift to die..

For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
This pleafing anxious being eler refign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,-
No caft one longing ling'ring look behind?
On fome fond breaft the parting foul rehes,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires ;
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
Ev'n in our afhes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of the unhonour'd dead,'
Doft in these lines their artless tale relate,
If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led,.
Some kindred spirit fhall inquire thy fate,
Haply, fome hoary-headed fwain may fay-
Oft have, we seen him, at the peep of dawn,

Brushing

Brushing, with hafty steps, the dews away,
To meet the fun upon the upland lawn.
There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
That wreathes its old fantastic roots fo high,
His liftlefs length at noontide would he ftretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

Hard by yon wood, now fmiling as in fcorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove¡.
Now drooping, woful wan, like one forlorn,
"Or craz❜d with care, or crois'd in hoplefs love.
"One morn I'mifs'd him on the 'custom'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 saw him borne→→→ "Approach, and read (for thou canft read) the lay, "Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'

The EPITAPH,

HERE refts 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.
Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere ::
Heav'n did a recompenfe as largely fend.
He gave to mis'ry all he had-a tear;

He gain'd from heav'n ('twas all be with'd)-a friend,
No farther feek his merits to difclofe,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they, alike, in trembling hope repose)
The bofom of his Father and-h s God.

XI. Scipio reftoring the Captive Lady to her Lover.
WHEN, to his glorious firft effay in war,

New Carthage fell; there, all the flower of Spain Were kept in hoftage; a foll field prefenting For Scipio's generolity to fhine.-A noble virgin, Confpicuous far o'er all the captive dames,

Was

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