that I should have | lived to | see

such dis-asters fallen up- on her in a | nation of gallant | | men; in a nation of | men of honor and of cava- | liers. ||17|I| thought

ten thousand | swords

their | scabbards,

must have | leaped from

That |ˇ

to a- | venge | even a | look that threatened | her with | insult. | 7| But the age of chivalry |is| gone. of sophisters, e-conomists and | calculators, | has succeeded; || and the | glory of | Europe is extinguished for | ever. || Never never more, shall we be- | hold that | generous loyalty to rank and sex, 1

។ |

that proud sub- | mission, ||that | dignifiedo-| bedience, that sub- ordination of the heart, 7777 which | kept a- | live, even in servitude it- self, the spirit of an ex-alted freedom. The unbought | grace of life, the | cheap de- | fence of | nations, the nurse of manly | sentiment

enterprize is gone! |

and he- | roic |

It is gone, that sensi- bility of | principle, that chastity of | honor, which | felt a | stain1 | like a ❘ wound,|77| which in- | spired | courage whilst it mitigated fe- | rocity, which ennobled ¦ what- | ever it touched;|77|7 and under | which¦ vice it- | self | lost ¦ half its ¦ evil,|| by losing all its grossness. 1971971

|

ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCH YARD.

Gray.

Reprinted according to the original copy.

The curfew tolls, the knell of ❘ parting | day,

The lowing herd | wind | slowly | o'er the | lea; 1771

។

The ploughman | homeward | plods his | weary | way,

And leaves the | world|to | darkness | and to me. 19971991

Now | fades the glimmering | landscape |on the| sight,

holds

And all the air a solemn | stillness |

Save where the | beetle | wheels his droning | flight

And drowsy | tinklings | lull the | distant | folds. | 991771

Save that

from | yonder | ivy | mantled | tower | The moping | owl docs to the moon complain |

Of such as wandering | near her | secret | bower | Mo- lest her ancient solitary | reign. |

771

Beneath those | rugged | elms, that yew tree's shade1

Where heaves the | turf in many a | mouldering | heap

Each in his narrow | cell for | ever | laid |

The rude fore- | fathers of the | hamlet | sleep. |

The breezy | call of | incense | breathing | morn,

For them no | morethe | blazing | hearth | shall burn1

Nor busy housewife | ply her | evening | care; ::

No children | run to | lisp their | sire's return

11|7Or | climb his | knees, the | envy'd | kiss

How jocund did they | drive their | team a- | field, 171

How bowed the woods beneath their | sturdy stroke. 1791971 |

Let not Ambition || mock their | useful | toil,`

Their homely | joys,

Nor | Grandeur | hear

smile

and | destiny ob- | scure,

with a dis- | dainful |

The short and | simple | annals of the poor. i 991991

The boast of heraldry, the | pomp of | power,

And all that | beauty, all that | wealth,!

the in- | evitable | hour;1|

The paths of glory || lead

e'er | gave, |

A- | wait, a- | like,

the grave.

Nor you,

the fault,

but to

ye | Proud!|im- | pute to these

If memory o'er their | tomb no | trophies | raise

Where thro' the | long-drawn | aisle | and | fretted vault,

The pealing anthem | swells the ❘ note of praise. Can | storied | urn, or | animated | bust | Back to its mansion || call the | fleeted | breath ?~|| Can honor's | voice | pro- | voke the | si

lent dust? |

Or flattery soothe the | dull | cold | ear of | death. 1991 |

Perhaps in this neglected | spot, | is | laid,

Some heart | once | pregnant with celestial |

fire;

Hands that the | rod of | empire might have | sway'd,

Or waked to ecstacythe | living | lyre. 11111

But knowledge to their | eyes,

her |

ample | page, |

Rich with the spoils of | Time, | did | ne'er un

Chill | Penury re- | press'd their | noble | rage,

And froze the | genial | current of the soul. 771771

Full many a gem of purest | ray se- | rene,| ។ | | ។ The dark un- | fathom'd | caves of ocean

bear;

Full many a flower is born to blush un

seen,

And waste its | sweetness on the desert | air. 71771771

Some village | Hampden, that with dauntless

breast,

The little tyrant of his | fields

with- | stood;

Some mute in- glorious | Milton | here may rest,

Some Cromwell, guiltless of his

blood. 191

country's

The applause of | listening | senates to command;

The threats of pain and ruin | to des- |

pise;

To scatter plenty

And read their | history

Their lot for bade:

lone

o'er a | smiling | land, 1||

in a | nation's | eyes;

nor | circum- | scribed a

Their growing | virtues, but their | crimes con

fined;

For bade to wade thro'

slaughter | to a throne,

on man- | kind;

And shut the | gates of mercy

The struggling | pangs of conscious | Truth to |

hide;

To quench the | blushes of in- genious | shame ; |