TH The lowing herd wind flowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now a Dr. Johnson obferves, that this Elegy abounds with images which find a mirrour in every mind, and with fentiments to which every bofom VOL. IV. A returns Now fades the glimmering landscape on the fight, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incenfe-breathing Morn, returns an echo. The four ftanzas beginning, Yet ev'n these bones are, fays he, original: I have never feen the sentiments in any other place; yet he that reads them here, perfuades himself that he has always felt them. IMITATION. fquilla di lontano Che paia 'l giorno pianger, che fi muore. Dante Purg. 1. 8. G. For For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, No children run to lifp their fire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their fickle yield, Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, The boaft of heraldry, the pomp of power, The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye Proud, impute to These the fault, Can ftoried urn, or animated bust, Back to its manfion call the fleeting breath? Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart, once pregnant with celestial fire; But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Full many a gem, of pureft ray ferene, Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast Th' applause of lift'ning fenates to command, eyes, Their lot forbad: nor circumscrib'd alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, With incense kindled at the Mufe's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, VARIATIONS. The thought!efs world to Majefty may bow, But more to innocence their fafety owe, Than Pow'r or Genius e'er confpir'd to bless. And thou, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead,. Hark! how the facred Calm, that breathes around, No more, with reason and thyself at strife, But through the cool fequefter'd vale of life And here the Poem, fays Mr. Mason, was originally intended to con clude, before the happy idea of the hoary-headed Swain, &c. suggested itself to the Author. The third of these rejected ftanzas is not in ferior to any in the whole Elegy. |