fretted vault: the great, orna- animated bust: a marble image that looks as if it were alive. here, call back the provoke Isilent dust to life. to write great songs or poems. penury very great poverty. ingenuous shame: the state of pregnant with celestial fire: woeful-wan: sad and pale. filled with sublime ardor and dirges: funeral songs or music. living lyre: the power of a poet frailties: weaknesses, faults. ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD 1 The curfew tolls the knell of parting day; 2 Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 3 Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient, solitary reign. 4 Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 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, No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees, the envied kiss to share. 7 Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield; Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke: How jocund did they drive their team a-field! 5 10 15 How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! 20 5 10 8 Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 9 The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 10 Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, 11 Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of Death? 12 Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre: 13 But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, 14 5 Full many a gem, of purest ray serene, 15 Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast 10 The little tyrant of his fields withstood; Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.. 16 The applause of listening senates to command, 15 To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 20 And read their history in a nation's eyes, 17 Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind; |