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Since he, that gave them speech, is heard no m

Flown is the spirit of GRAY

Like common breath to mingle with the air
Yet still those Goddesses peculiar care,
That breathe harmonious lay.
Retir'd to yonder grassy mound
In leaves of dusky hue encompass'd round,
They bid their plaintive accents fill
The covert hollows of the bosom'd hill:

With liquid voice and magic hand

Calliope informs the band:

Hush'd are the warblers of the

grove,

attentiv

the sound.

"Soft and slow

"Let the melting measures flow,

"Nor lighter air disturb majestic woe.

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"When Milton pour'd the "On Lycidas funk low

"Now wake that faithful lyre

"reigns:

"Your echoes waft no more th

"Clogg'd with thick vapours fro "plains,

"Where old Cam hardly m

"stream.

"But when some public "Claims festive song, or mor "Discordant murmurs grate

"Ne'er model'd by Pier

[1] Cambridge University, where Gray died

[2] In 1638 the University published a vol mory of Mr. Edward King, Milton's Lycidas.

"Whom now the powers of melody deplore;
"Whether in lofty state [3]

"Thou bad'st thy train divine
"Of raptures on Pindaric pinions soar:
"Or hoping from thyself to fly
"To childhood's careless scenes [4],
"Thou sent'st a warm refreshing eye
"On Nature's faded greens:

"Or when thy calm and steadfast mind
"With philosophic reach profound
"Self-pleasing vanities resign'd,

"Fond of the look, that loves the ground [
"Discern'd by Reason's equal light,
"How gaudy Fortune cheats the sight;

[3] See Gray's Pindaric Odes.

[4] Ode on a distant prospect of Eton College.
[5] Hymn to Adversity.

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phic reach profound ties resign'd, k, that loves the ground ason's equal light, une cheats the sight;

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"With lengthen'd note detains "As lost in thought thou wande

"Where spirits hover round thei

"By Contemplation's eye serene "Each lowly object wears an

"'Tis our own blindness veils th "The works of Nature need I

"Thou saw'st her beaming from "Beneath those rugged elms, that "Where now, still faithful to thei "Thy own dear ashes are for

[6] Church-yard Elegy.

[7] Gray was buried at Stoke, the

BY A LADY.

WHERE sleeps the Bard who grac'd Mu

hearse

With fragrant trophies by the Muses wove Shall Gray's cold urn in vain demand the ve Oh! can his Mafon fail in plaintive love?

No; with the Nine inwrapp'd in social woe, His lyre unstrung, sad vigil he must keep; With them he mourns, with them his eyes o'er For such a Bard immortal Maids can weep

Their early pupil in the heav'nly lore
Of sacred poesy and moral song,

They taught the youth on eagle wing to soar,
And bore him thro' aërial heights along.

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