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Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless brcalt,
The little Tyrant of his fields withstood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.

Th' applause of liftning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their hiftry in a nation's eyes

Their lot forbad: nor circumscrib'd alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin’d;
Forbad 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,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.

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

Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial ftill erected nigh,
With uncouth rhimes and shapeless sculpture deck d,
Implores the passing tribute of a figh.

Their name, their years, spelt by th’ unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralift to dye.


For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey;
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the chearful day,
Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind ?

On some fond breast the parting foul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires ;
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
Ev’n in our Ashes live their wonted Fires.

For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead
Doft in these lines their artless tale relate ;
If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some kindred Spirit shall inquire thy fate,

Haply some hoary-headed Swain may fay,
• Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
• Brushing with hasty steps the dews away
• To meet the sun upon the upland land.

• There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
" That wreathes its old fantastick roots so high,
• His listless length at noon-tide wou'd he stretch,
And pore upon

the brook that babbles by.

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! Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in fcorn,

Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he wou'd rove; • Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, • Or craz’d with carc, or cross’d in hopeless love.

• One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,

Along the heath and near his fav’rite tree; • Another came; nor yet beside the rill,

the lawn, nor at the wood was he,

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• The next with dirges due in fad array
• Slow through the church-way path we saw him born,
• Approach and read (for thou can't read) the lay,
? Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.

The Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η.

ERE résts his head upon the lap of Earth,

A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown, Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark’d him for her own.

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Large ruas his bounty, and his soul fincere,
Heav'n did a recompence as largely fend:
He gave to Mis’ry all be had, a tear,
He gain'd

from Heav’n ('twas all he wish’d) a friend,


No farther, feek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they alike in trembling hope repole)
The bofom of bis Father and his God.



By the Same.

DAUGHTER OF Jove, relentless Power,

Thou Tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge and tortring hour

The Bad affright, afflict the Best !
Bound in thy adamantine chain
The Proud are taught to taste of pain,

And purple tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.

When first thy Sire to send on earth

Virtue, his darling Child, design'd, To thee he gave the heav'nly Birth,

And bad to form her infant mind.
Stern rugged Nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore :

What sorrow was, thou bad'It her know,
And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe.

Scared at thy frown terrific, fly

Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,

And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer Friend, the flatt'ring Foe;

By vain Prosperity received,
To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.

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Wisdom in fable garb array'd,

Immers'd in rapt'rous thought profound,
And Melancholy, filent maid

With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend :
Warm Charity, the gen'ral friend,

With justice to herself severe,
And Pity, dropping soft the fadly-pleasing tear.

Oh!, gently on thy Suppliant's head,

Dread Goddess, lay thy chast ning hand ! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,

Nor circled with the vengeful Band (As by the Impious thou art seen) With thund'ring voice, and threat'ning mien,

With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.

Thy form benign, oh Goddess, wear,

Thy milder influence impart, Thy philofophic Train be there

To foften, not to wound my heart, The gen'rous fpark extinct revive, Teach me to love, and to forgive,

Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a man.

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