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chiefte in altra guifa più convenevole fe non fe con metterla di nuovo alle ftampe, mi fono volentieriffimo accinto a sì lodevol impresa, sperando ch' una tal opra porgerà loro gran diletto, gli quali potranno offervare, quanto bene li fentimenti delle due lingue convengano infieme, e corrispondanfi con eleganza e bellezza.

AGOSTINO ISOLA.

f

WRITTEN

IN A

COUNTRY CHURCHYARD.

T

HE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind flowly o'er the lea; The plowman homeward 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 droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r,
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of fuch, as wand'ring near her fecret bow'r,
Moleft her ancient folitary reign.

Beneath

ELEGIA

SCRITTA

IN UN

CIMITERO CAMPESTRE.

SEGN

EGNA la fquilla il dì, che già vien manco;
Mugghia l'armento, e via lento erra e sgombra;

Torna a cafa il bifolco inchino e stanco,

Et a me lafcia il mondo e a la fofc' ombra,

Già fugge il piano al guardo, e gli s'invola,
E de l'aere un filenzio alto s' indonna,
Fuor 've lo fcarabon ronzando vola,
E un cupo tintinnir gli ovifi affonna;

E d'erma torre il gufo ognor penfofo
Si duole, al raggio de la luna amico,
Di chi, girando il fuo ricetto ombrofo,
Gli turba il regno folitario antico.

D

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 fleep.

The breezy call of incenfe-breathing morn,
The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-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 busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lifp their fire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kifs to fhare.

Oft did the harveft to the fickle yield,

Their furrow oft the ftubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team 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 difdainful fmile,
The short and fimple annals of the poor.

The

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