GRAY'S ELEGY. YEW TREE'S SHADE, WHERE HEAVES THE TURF IN MANY A MOULDRING HEAP. BENEATH THOSE RUGGED ELMS, THAT EACH IN HIS NARROW CELL FOR EVER LAID, THE RUDE FOREFATHERS OF THE HAMLET SLEEP. THE BREEZY CALL OF INCENSE-BREATHING MORN. THE SWALLOW TWITT RING FROM THE STRAW-BUILT SHED, THE COCK'S SHRILL CLARION, OR THE ECHOING HORN, NO MORE SHALL ROUSE THEM FROM THEIR LOWLY BED. |