ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, way, 3 And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 4 Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 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. 6 The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, 5 IO 15 The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 7 Or busy housewife ply her evening care: 8 Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, vault 11 12 25 30 35 The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 40 Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? 45 Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, 14 Or waked to ecstasy 1 the living lyre. 15 But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Full many a gem, of purest ray serene, Some village Hampden,20 that with dauntless breast 21 The little tyrant of his fields withstood; The applause of listening senates to command, 55 Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed 23 alone 65 Their growing virtues, but their crimes con fined; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of Mercy on mankind; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 70 24 Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride Far from the madding 25 crowd's ignoble strife, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered. Muse, The place of fame and elegy" supply; And many a holy text around she strews, For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, On some fond breast the parting 28 soul relies, Even in our ashes live their wonted 29 fires, For thee, who, mindful of the unhonoured dead, 75 80 85 90 95 |