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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

fight,
And all the air a solemn 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 such as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,
Moleft her ancient solitary reign.

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.

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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

bed.

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