Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,

If Mem'ry o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where thro' the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault 40 The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn, or animated bust,

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death?

45 Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid

50

Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire, Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre.

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page
Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,

And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene

The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; 56 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little Tyrant of his fields withstood,

'Gentlemen,' he said, as his recital ended, I would rather have written those lines than take Quebec.' None were there to tell him that the hero is greater than the poet." Parkman's Montcalm and Wolfe, ii. 285.

40. Pealing. See Il Penseroso, 161.

41. Storied. See Il Penseroso, 159.

51. Rage is not anger, but, as we say the fire raged, so here rage is kindled spirit.

60

Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,

Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.

Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,

And read their hist'ry in a nation's eyes,

65 Their lot forbade: nor circumscrib'd alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd;
Forbade to wade thro' slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, 70 To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride

With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.

60. In an early form of his poem, Gray wrote:"Some village Cato, who, with dauntless breast

The little Tyrant of his fields withstood,

Some mute inglorious Tully here may rest,

Some Cæsar guiltless of his country's blood."

Gray was, as we have said, a scholar and a very delicate one, and he stepped into this form naturally; but he was also an Englishman keenly interested even in the antiquities of England, and the change he made was not only in accordance with his more deliberate judgment, it was a sign that English literature was on its way out of academic inclosures; no one did more to set it free than Gray, with his own strong academic taste.

72. After this verse, in Gray's first MS. of the poem, were the four following stanzas:

"The thoughtless world to majesty may bow,

Exalt the brave, and idolize success;
But more to innocence their safety owe,
Than pow'r or genius e'er conspired to bless.

"And thou who mindful of th' unhonour'd dead
Dost in these notes their artless tale relate,

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

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

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 moralist to die.

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

By night and lonely contemplation led

To wander in the gloomy walks of fate:

"Hark, how the sacred calm, that breathes around,
Bids every fierce tumultuous passion cease:
In still small accents whisp'ring from the ground,
A grateful earnest of eternal peace.

"No more, with reason and thyself at strife,

Give anxious cares and endless wishes room;
But through the cool sequester'd vale of life
Pursue the silent tenour of thy doom."

And here the poem was originally intended to conclude. Though he discarded the verses, Gray retained some of the phrases for use in the following stanzas.

77. These bones. Gray has the whole scene so vividly in mind, from the first intimation in line 16, that these comes simply and naturally to him.

85. To dumb Forgetfulness a prey. There has been some

90

On some fond breast the parting soul 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,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;

95 If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,

100

Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate,

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,

"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn:

"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

105"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,

110

Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove; Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,

Or craz'd with care, 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,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; discussion over this stanza, but if these words are interpreted as meaning that the departing soul overtaken by death knows that he is to become dumb, and loses all memory, then the rest follows naturally.

99. See Paradise Lost, v. 429. 111. Another, i. e., day.

"The next, with dirges due in sad array,

Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne :

115 Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.”

120

THE EPITAPH.

Here rests 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.

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 gain'd from Heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a
friend.

125 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.

116. "Before the Epitaph," says Mason, "Gray originally inserted a very beautiful stanza, which was printed in some of the first editions, but afterwards omitted, because he thought that it was too long a parenthesis in this place. The lines, however, are in themselves exquisitely fine, and demand preservation :

"There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year,

By hands unseen are show'rs of violets found;
The redbreast loves to build and warble there,
And little footsteps lightly print the ground.'"