LESSON CCV. ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. THOMAS GRAY. THOMAS GRAY was born in London, in 1716. He was a profound scholar, and possessed a refined taste in painting, architecture, and gardening. His poems are few, but elegant and sublime. CURFEW, (from the French couvre-feu, cover-fire,) a bell rung at night as a signal to the inhabitants to cover their fires and retire to rest. This practice originated from an old English law, which required that, at the ringing of the bell at eight o'clock, every one should put out his light and go to bed. 1. THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day; The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea; 2. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 3. Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 4. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 5. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 6. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 7. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield; Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke: 8. Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure, 9. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 10. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, 11. Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death? 12. Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; 13. But knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul. 14. Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark, unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; 15. Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. 16. The applause of listening senates to command, And read their history in a nation's eyes, 17. Their lot forbade; nor circumscribed alone. 18. The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, 19. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool, sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 20. Yet e'en these bones, from insult to protect, Some frail memorial still, erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 21. Their names, their years, spell'd by the unletter'd muse, The place of fame and elegy supply; And many a holy text around she strews, 22. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing, anxious being e'er resign'd, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind? 23. On some fond breast the parting soul relies; 24. For thee, who, mindful of the unhonor'd dead, 25. Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 26. "There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech, 27. "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. 28. "One morn I miss'd him on the accustom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his favorite tree Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he. 29. "The next, with dirges due, in sad array, Slow through the churchway-path we saw him borne: EPITAPH. 30. Here rests his head upon the lap of earth 31. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere; Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to misery all he had,—a tear; He gain'd from Heaven-'twas all he wish'd—a friend. 32. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God. LESSON CCVI. ADAMS AND JEFFERSON. EDWARD EVERETT. 1. No, fellow-citizens, we dismiss not Adams and Jefferson to the chambers of forgetfulness and death. What we admired, and prized, and venerated in them, can never die, nor. dying, be forgotten. I had almost said that they are now beginning to live; to live that life of unimpaired influence, of unclouded fame, of unmingled happiness, for which their talents and services were destined. 2. They were of the select few, the least portion of whose life dwells in their physical existence; whose hearts have watched while their senses slept; whose souls have grown up into a higher being; whose pleasure is to be useful; whose wealth is an unblemished reputation; who respire the breath of honorable fame; who have deliberately and consciously put what is called life to hazard, that they may live in the hearts of those who come after. Such men do not, cannot die. 3. To be cold, and motionless, and breathless; to feel not and speak not; this is not the end of existence to the men who have breathed their spirits into the institutions of their country, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of the age, who have poured their heart's blood into the channels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred hight, is Warren dead? Can you not |