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E LE GY
WRITTEN IN A
COUNTRY CHURCH - YARD.
THE Curfew tollsf the knell of parting
day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary
way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
+ fquilla di lontano Che paia 'l giorno pianger, che si muore.
Dante Purgat. 1..8.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's
shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould
'ring heap, 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,
(horn, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing No more shall rouze them from their lowly