"Of foes intestine what a numerous band And brace the nerves once more, and cheer the heart, And yet a few soft nights and balmy days impart. LIII. "Nor less to regulate man's moral frame, "Science exerts her all-composing sway; Flutters thy breast with fear, or pants for fame, "Or pines, to Indolence and Spleen a prey, "Or Avarice, a fiend more fierce than they? "Flee to the shades of Academus' grove; "Where cares molest not! discord melts away "In harmony, and the pure passions prove "How sweet the words of truth breathed from the lips of Love. LIV. "What cannot art and industry perform, "When Science plans the progress of their toil! "They smile at penury, disease, and storm; "And oceans from their mighty mounds recoil. "When tyrants scourge, or demagogues embroil "A land, or when the rabble's headlong rage "Order transforms to anarchy and spoil, "Deep-versed in man, the philosophic sage "Prepares, with lenient hand, their frenzy to assuage. LV. 'Tis he alone, whose comprehensive mind, "From situation, temper, soil, and clime H "Explored, a nation's various powers can bind "And various orders, in one form sublime "Of polity, that, midst the wrecks of time, "Secure shall lift its head on high, nor fear "Th' assault of foreign or domestic crime, "While public faith, and public love sincere, "And industry and law maintain their sway severe." LVI. Enraptured by the hermit's strain, the youth LVII. Nor love of novelty alone inspires, Their laws and nice dependencies to scan; And Emulation's noble rage alarm, And the long hours of toil and solitude to charm. LVIII. But she, who set on fire his infant heart, And all his dreams, and all his wanderings shared, From Nature's beauties variously compared And variously combined, he learns to frame Those forms of bright perfection, which the bard, While boundless hopes and boundless views inflame, Enamor'd consecrates to never-dying fame. LIX. Of late, with cumbersome, though pompous show, Tempers his rage: he owns her charm divine, And clears th' ambiguous phrase, and lops th' unwieldy line. LX. Fain would I sing, (much yet unsung remains) When the great Shepherd of the Mantuan plains* Fain would I sing, what transport storm'd his soul, How the red current throbb'd his veins along, When, like Pelides, bold beyond control, Gracefully terrible, sublimely strong, Homer raised high to heaven the loud, th' impetuous song. LXI. And how his lyre, though rude her first essays, Virgil. Warbling at will through each harmonious maze, Was taught to modulate the artful strain, I fain would sing :-but ah! I strive in vain. Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound.With trembling step, to join yon weeping train, I haste, where gleams funereal glare around, And, mix'd with shrieks of woe, the knells of death resound. LXII. Adieu, ye lays, that Fancy's flowers adorn, And pour my bitter tears.-Ye flowery lays, adieu! Art thou, my GREGORY, for ever fled! When fortune's storms assail this weary head, "Tis meet that I should mourn :-flow forth afresh my tears. * This excellent person died suddenly, on the 10th of February, 1773. The conclusion of the poem was written a few days after. AN ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. BY THOMAS GRAY. THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight, The moping owl does to the moon complain Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn. |