Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (Thomas Gray, 1750)
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
St. 1
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.
St. 2
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r
The moping owl does to the moon complain.
St. 3
Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
St. 4
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
St. 6
Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile,
The short and simple annals of the poor.
St. 8
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
St. 9
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
St. 10
Can storied urn, or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death?
St. 11
Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
St. 12
But knowledge to their eyes her ample page
Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll;
Chill penury repressed their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
St. 13
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
St. 14
Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.
St. 15
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their hist'ry in a nation's eyes.
St. 16
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.
St. 17
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
Along the cool sequestered vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
St. 19
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
St. 20
For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?
St. 22
E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
St. 23
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to fortune and to fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth.
And Melancholy marked him for her own.
The Epitaph, St. 1
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heav'n did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to mis'ry all he had, a tear,
he gained from Heav'n ('twas all he wished) a friend.
The Epitaph, St. 2
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)
The bosom of his Father and his God.
The Epitaph, St. 3