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ELEGY

WRITTEN IN A

COUNTRY CHURCH YARD.

TRITISH

EL E G Y

WRITTEN IN A

COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.

THE Curfew tolls + the knell of parting

day,

The lowing herd wind flowly 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 fi muore.
Dante Purgat. 1..8.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the

fight,

And all the air a folemn stillness holds, Save where the Beetle wheels his droning flight,

And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r The moping Owl does to the moon complain Of fuch as wand'ring near her secret bow'r, Moleft her ancient folitary reign.

Beneath thofe rugged elms, that yew-tree's fhade,

Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,

Each in his narrow cell for ever láid,
The rude Forefathers of the hamlet fleep.

The breezy call of incenfe-breathing Morn,
'The swallow twitt'ring from the ftraw-built
fhed,
[horn,
The cock's fhrill clarion, or the echoing
No more fhall rouze them from their lowly

bed.

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