صور الصفحة
النشر الإلكتروني

The boaft of Heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gara,
Await alike th' inevitable hour,
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
If Mem'ry w'er icir tombs no trophies raile,
Where through the long drawn ife, and fretted vault,
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can iloried urn, or animated baft,
Back to its manfion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the filent duft,
Or Flait'sy footh the dull cold ear of Death?

[ocr errors]

Perhaps in this neglected fpot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'dy
Or wak'd to ecitary the living lyre,

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 curre..t of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean bear :
Fall many a flow's is born to bluth unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.


Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields with ftood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may reft,
Some Cromwell guillefs of his country's blood.


Th' applause of lift'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,

Their lot forbade: nor circumscrib'd alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd; .
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the bluhes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's Aamne.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble Atrife,
Their sober wishes never learn’d to ftray;
Along the cool sequefter'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.

Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial ftill crected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'a,
Implores the passing tribute of a figh.

Their names,


years, spelt by th’unletter'd Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply ; And many a holy text around thje strews, That teach the ruftic moralilt to die,

For who, to dumb forgetfulnefs a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor caft one longing, ling'ring look behind ?

[ocr errors][merged small]

On some fond breaft the parting foul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires ;
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
Ey'n in our alhes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of th’ unhonour'd dead,
Doft in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,

[ocr errors]

Haply fome hoary-headed swain may fay, • Oft have we seen him at the


of dawn, • Brushing with hafty steps the dew away, • To meet the fun upon the upland lawn.

[ocr errors][ocr errors]

• There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
. That wreathes its old fantaftic roots so high,
• His lifless length at noontide would he ftretch,,
• And pore upon the brook that bubbles by.

• Hard by yon wood now smiling as in scorn,
• Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove;
* Now drooping, woful wan, like one forlorn,

Or craz'd with care, or cross’d in hopeless lovę.

[ocr errors]

•One morn I miss'd him on th' accuftom'd hill,

Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree; • Another came, nor yet beside the rill,

up the lawn, nor at the wood was he ;

• Nor

• The next, with dirges due, in fad array,
• Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne.

Approach and read (for thou can'ft read) the lay, • Grav'd on the fone beneath yon aged thorn.'

[ocr errors]



HERE rests his head upon the lap of Earih
A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown :
Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,
And Melancboly mark'a bim for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere,
Heav'n did a recompense as largely send :
He gave to Mis'ry all he bad, a tear,
He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all be will'd) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode';
(There they alike in trembling bope repose)
The bofom of his father and bis God.



Mark where its fimple front yon mansion rears,
The nursery of men for future years !
Here callow chiefs and embryo statesmen lie,
And unfledg'd poets short excursions try;
While Mersey's gentle current, which too long
By fame neglected, and unknown to song,
Between his rushy banks (no poet's theme)
Had crept inglorious, like a vulgar stream,
Reflects th' ascending seats with conscious pride,
And dares to emulate a classic tide.
Soft music breathes along each op'ning fhade,
And fooths the dashing of his rough cascade.
With mystic lines his fands are figur'd o'er,
And circles trae'd upon the letter'd shore.
Beneath his willows rove th' inquiring you:h,
And court the fair majestic form of truth.

[ocr errors][ocr errors]

Here Nature opens all her secret fprings,
And Heav'n-born Science plumes her eagle wings;
Too long had bigot Rage, with malice swellid,
Cruth'd her strong pinions, and her flight withheld;
Too long to check her ardent progress ftrove:
So writhes the serpent round the bird of Jove,
Hangs on her flight, reftrains her tow'ring wing,
Twists its dark folds, and points its venom'd sting,
Yet ftill, if aught aright the Mufe divine,
He rifing pride fhall mock the vain design ;
On sounding pinions yet aloft shall foar,
And through the azure deep untravelld paths explore.
Where Science smiles, the Muses join the train,
And gentlest arts and purest manners reign.

generous Youth, who love this studious shade,
How rich a field is to your hopes display'd !
Knowledge to you unlocks the classic page,
And virtue blossoms for a better age.
O, golden days ! O, bright unvalued hours !
What bliss (did ye but know that bliss) were yours
With richest stores your glowing bofoms fraught,
Perception quick, and luxury of thought;
The high designs that heave the labouring soul,
Panting for fame, impatient of control;
Anil fond enthusiastic thought, that feeds
On pictur'd tales of valt heroic deeds;
And quick affections, kindling into flame
At virtue's or their country's honour'd name ;
And spirits light, to ev'ry joy in tune ;
And friendship, ardent as a summer's noon ;

{corn of vice's venal tribe;
And proud disdain of interest's fordid bribe;
And conscious honour's quick instinctive fense;
And smiles unforc'd ; and easy confidence ;


« السابقةمتابعة »