ODE WRITTEN IN THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR 1746 How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blessed! When spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, 5 She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; DIRGE IN CYMBELINE SUNG BY GUIDERUS AND ARVIRAGUS OVER FIDELE, SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD (First published in The Gentleman's Magazine, for October, 1749) To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring And rifle all the breathing spring. 5 No wailing ghost shall dare appear And melting virgins own their love, 10 No withered witch shall here be seen; And dress thy grave with pearly dew! The redbreast oft, at evening hours, 20 When howling winds and beating rain, The tender thought on thee shall dwell; Each lonely scene shall thee restore; Thomas Gray 1716-1771 ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON 10 COLLEGE (1747) Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, 5 And ye, that from the stately brow His silver-winding way: Ah, happy hills, ah, pleasing shade, Where once my careless childhood stray'd, 15 I feel the gales, that from ye blow, 20 As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring. Say, father THAMES, for thou hast seen 25 Who foremost now delight to cleave 30 To chase the rolling circle's speed, While some on earnest business bent Their murm'ring labours ply 'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint, To sweeten liberty: 35 Some bold adventurers disdain 40 The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, 45 Theirs buxom health of rosy hue, Wild wit, invention ever-new, 50 And lively chear of vigour born; The thoughtless day, the easy night, The spirits pure, the slumbers light, That fly th' approach of morn. Alas, regardless of their doom No sense have they of ills to come, 55 Yet see how all around 'em wait 60 And black Misfortune's baleful train! Ah, show them where in ambush stand To seize their prey the murth'rous band! Ah, tell them, they are men! These shall the fury Passions tear, The vulturs of the mind, And Shame that sculks behind; 65 Or pineing Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy with rankling tooth, That inly gnaws the secret heart, And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visag'd comfortless Despair, 70 And Sorrow's piercing dart. Ambition this shall tempt to rise, And grinning Infamy. 75 The stings of Falsehood those shall try, And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye, That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow; And keen Remorse with blood defil'd, 80 And moody Madness laughing wild Lo, in the vale of years beneath A griesly troop are seen, More hideous than their Queen: 85 This racks the joints, this fires the veins, That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage: 90 Lo, Poverty, to fill the band, To each his suff'rings: all are men, The tender for another's pain; Th' unfeeling for his own. 95 Yet, ah! why should they know their fate? And happiness too swiftly flies, ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD (1751) The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 5 Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, |