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Country. Church Yard. 1950
The Curfen tolls the Knall of parting Day,
And all a
Some Village - Hamber, that with dauntless Breast
much ing grilles.
The The Applause of list ning Jenates to command.
And read their Hist'ry in a
Or that the tits Fangs of conscious Fouth to hide,
In heap the Thorne of Luxury Muses Flame.
Their Name, their years spell's, by ply irers,
The Place of Fame & Epitaphy
Prey, ier resifoid,
That, reach the bustia Moralist to die.
Nor cast one
their wonzed Fires.
For Thee, who mindful of the unhonour'd, Dead
as in Scorn,
Harding this wayward Fancies, would he nove; woeful-wo Now drooping welver cros') in hopeless Love 1 Or crazed with Cave, or crossed One Morn I mess'd him from the customd Hill, the death, & near his fav rite Free
Another came; now yet beside the Rill,
The next with Darges due in sad drray "'"Slow thro' the Churchway Path,
we saw him born.
Approach & read, for there can't read, the day Thorn. › Graved
Far from the madding Crowd's ignoble Strife,
Along the cool sequesterd Vale of t
Here rests his Head upon the Lap of Earth
to Fortune & to Fame unknow,
Sand Melancholy mark'd him for her.
to gave He gained from head ( 'twas all he wish'd) a Friend. No farther seek his Meries to disclove, On draw his Frailties from their dread above, (There they alike in wrembling Hope repose) The Bosom of his Father, & his God.
There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the Year,
Omitted in 1763