1

Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.

14

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

15

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

Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,

Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.

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16

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

And read their history in a nation's eyes

17

Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade thro' slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;

18

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.

19

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

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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.

22

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,

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Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,

Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?

23

On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

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24

For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate,

25

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;

26

"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,

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His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

27

"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.

28

"One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;

29

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"The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him

borne,

Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay 115 Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."

THE EPΙΤΑΡΗ

30

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.

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31

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere;
Heaven did a recompense as largely send :

He gave to misery (all he had) a tear,

He gain'd from Heaven ('t was all he wish'd) a friend.

32

No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,

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(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)

The bosom of his Father and his God.

ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF EΤΟΝ

COLLEGE

YE distant spires, ye antique towers
That crown the watery glade,

Where grateful Science still adores

Her Henry's holy shade;

And ye, that from the stately brow
Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below

Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,

Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
Wanders the hoary Thames along

His silver-winding way:

Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade!
Ah fields beloved in vain!

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10

Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race
Disporting on thy margent green

20

The paths of pleasure trace;
Who foremost now delight to cleave

25

With pliant arm, thy glassy wave?
The captive linnet which enthral?
What idle progeny succeed
To chase the rolling circle's speed
Or urge the flying ball?

30

While some on earnest business bent
Their murmuring labours ply
'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint
To sweeten liberty:

Some bold adventurers disdain
The limits of their little reign
And unknown regions dare descry:
Still as they run they look behind,
They hear a voice in every wind,

35

And snatch a fearful joy.

40

Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,
Less pleasing when possest;
The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast:
Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue,
Wild wit, invention ever new,
And lively cheer, of vigour born ;
The thoughtless day, the easy night,
The spirits pure, the slumbers light

That fly th' approach of morn.

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And black Misfortune's baleful train!
Ah show them where in ambush stand
To seize their prey, the murderous band!

Ah, tell them they are men!

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These shall the fury Passions tear,
The vultures of the mind,
Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,

And Shame that sculks behind;
Or pining Love shall waste their youth,
Or Jealousy with rankling tooth

That inly gnaws the secret heart,
And Envy wan, and faded Care,
Grim-visaged comfortless Despair,
And Sorrow's piercing dart.

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