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 drowfy tinklings lull the distant folds;

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

Beneath thofe 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.

returns an echo. The four ftanzas beginning, Yet ev'n these bones are, fays he, original: I have never feen the fentiments in any other place;. yet he that reads them here, perfuades himself that he has always felt

them.

IMITATION.

fquilla di lontano

Che paia 'l giorno pianger, che fi muore.

Dante Purg. 1. 8. G.

For

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 kiss to share.

Oft did the harvest to their fickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn 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 obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear, with a difdainful smile,
The fhort and fimple annals of the poor.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike th' inevitable hour;

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye Proud, impute to Thefe the fault,
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raife,
Where through the long-drawn ifle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem fwells the note of praise.

Can ftoried urn, or animated bust,

Back to its manfion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent duft,
Or Flatt'ry footh the dull cold ear of Death?

mqiit ca, "re their crimes confa'd; Palmaro made things faster to a throne, And fit the gaya di mercy on mankind,

The

The struggling pangs of confcious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride..
With incenfe kindled at the Mufe's flame.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their fober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool fequefter'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

VARIATIONS.

The thought!efs world to Majefty may bow,
Exalt the brave, and idolize fuccefs;

But more to innocence their fafety owe,

Than Pow'r or Genius e'er confpir'd to blefs.

And thou, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead,
Doft in these notes their artless tale relate,
By night and lonely contemplation led

To wander in the gloomy walks of fate:

Hark! how the facred Calm, that breathes around,
Bids every fierce tumultuous paffion ceafe;
In ftill fmall accents whifpering from the ground
A grateful earnest of eternal peace.

No more, with reason and thyself at strife,
Give anxious cares and endlefs wifhes room;

But through the cool fequefter'd vale of life
Purfue the filent tenor of thy doom.

And here the Poem, fays Mr. Mafon, was originally intended to con clude, before the happy idea of the hoary-headed Swain, &c. fuggefted itself to the Author. The third of thefe rejected ftanzas is not in ferior to any in the whole Elegy.