118 ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind? On some fond breast the parting soul relies : Some pious drops the closing eye requires : For thee, who, mindful of the unhonoured dead, If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Haply, some hoary-headed swain may say, 66 There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old, fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. "Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove: Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn, Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love. "One morn I missed him on the accustomed hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree: Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he: "The next, with dirges due, in sad array, Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne ; THE EPITAPH. Here rests his head upon the lap of earth Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere: He gave to misery all he had-a tear; He gained from Heaven-'twas all he wished-a friend. No further seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode(There they, alike, in trembling hope, repose) The bosom of his Father and his God. Sweet Mary. F I had thought thou couldst have died, And thou shouldst smile no more. And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again, And still the thought I will not brook But, when I speak, thou dost not say What thou ne'er left'st unsaid, And now I feel, as well I may, If thou wouldst stay even as thou art, I still might press thy silent heart, And where thy smiles have been! GRAY. CHARACTER OF ADDISON. While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have, Thou seemest still mine own, But there I lay thee in the grave— And I am now alone. I do not think, where'er thou art, And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart Yet there was round thee such a dawn As fancy never could have drawn, And never can restore. REV. CHAS. Wolfe. Character of Addison. WERE there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Р 121 120 + SWEET MARY. No further seek his merits to disclose Or draw his frailties from their drea (There they, alike, in trembling bị ng The bosom of his Father anlis GL And think will smile again. And still the thought I will most nook That I must look in vain. But, when I speak, thou lost not say What thon me left's unsaid, |