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quests; that he wants nothing of u's, and is content that we should pro'sper and be at pe’ace, because we are so distant from his thr'one? Has he not already told us/ that we must emb'ark in his ca'use ? Has he not himself declared war-forus/ against En'gland ? Will it be said, he wants not to co'nquer us, but only wishes us to be his a'llies ? Allies of Frașnce ! Is there a m’an/ who does not shudder at the tho’ught ? Is there on'e/ who had not rather struggle no'bly, and perish under her o^pen-enmity, than be crushed by the embrace of her frie'ndship,
her alli°ance? To show you the ha ppiness* of her alliance, I will not carry you back to Venice, Switzerland, H'olland. Theʻir expiring groans/ are almost forgotten amidst l'ater oʻutrages. Spain, Spa‘in is the al'ly/ to whom I would dire'ct-you. Are you lovers of treachery, perfidy, rapa city, and m'assacre ? Then aspire after the ho'nour/ which Spain has foʻrfeited, and become the ally of Fra'nce.
Let me here obse'rve, that the contrast of Engʻland with France (in point of morals and religion) is one ground of ho'pe (to the devout m'ind) in these d'ark/ and troʻubled tim'es. On this s'ubject, I have heard but one'-opinion from good m'en, who have visited the two coun'tries. The cha'racter of En°gland/ is to be estimated parti'cularly from what may be called the middle class of so'ciety (the most numerous class in all na'tions, and more numerous and influ’ential in En“gland/ than in any other na'tion of E'urope. The w'arm pie'ty, the 'a'ctive bene'volence, and the indepe'ndent and ma‘nly thi'nking (which are found in this class) do encourage me in the belief, that En'gland/ will not be forsaken by God/ in her solemn str'uggle!
I feel myself bound to all n’ations/ by the ties of a common na'ture, a common Fath'er, and a common Sa’viour. But/ I feel a pecu^liar-interest in En°gland; for I beli'eve, that ther^e/ Christi'anity is exerting its be'st influences on the human ch'aracter ; that the^re/ the perfections of human na'ture (w'isdom, vir'tue, and pi'ety) are foste'red by excellent instit’utions, and are producing the delightful fruits of domestic ha'ppi
Happiness” here is spoken iro elly, and hence pronounced with the rising circumflex.
+ Though the note of admiration is generally pronounced with the falling voice, yet when much pathos is expressed, as in the above beautiful example, the rising inflection will produce the more effect.
ness, social oʻrder, and general prospe'rity. It is a hoʻpe
Winding up, or concluding tone.
ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.
The lowing he'rd/ winds slowly o'er the le'a;
And leaves the woʻrld/—to dar'kness, and to me. j
And all the air/ a solemn stillness ho'lds ;
And drowsy tin klings/ lull the distant fo'lds;
The moping o'wl/ does to the moon complain
Mole'st her an'cient/ soli'tary-reign.
Bids every fier'ce/ tumultuous passion ce'ase ;
A grateful ear'nest/ of eternal peace !
(Where heaves the tur f/ in many a mouldering he'ap,) Ea'ch/ in his narrow c'ell/ for ever la'id,
The rude forefathers/ of the hamlet sle'ep.
* The observance of the cæsural pause (which generally occurs at the fourth, but extends sometimes to the sixth or seventh syllable) is essentially necessary to the proper reading of any poetry ; but, in Gray's beautiful Elegy, it is absolutely indispensable! It occurs in the first verse at “ tolls," "herd,” “ homeward," and "world ;” and the inflections upon the whole, at the end of each line, generally correspond with those in the FIRST VERSE, as here marked.
The breezy c'all/ of incense-br'eathing mor'n,
The swallow/ twittering from the straw-built sh'ed, The cock's shrill cla'rion, or the echoing hor'n,
No mor'e shall rous e-them/ from their lowly b'ed. For the'm no more/ the blazing hearth shall bur'n,
Or busy house wife/ ply her evening ca’re ; No children ru'n; to lisp their sire's retur'n,
Or climb his kn'ees/ the envied ki'ss/ to shar'e. Oft did the harvest/ to their si'ckle yield;
Their furrow of 't/ the stubborn glebe has broke : How jocund did they driv'e/ their team a-fie’ld !
How bowed the w’oods/ beneath their sturdy stro'ke ! Let not ambiti'on/ mock their useful to'il,
Their homely joy's/, and destiny obsc'ure ; Nor graîndeur h'ear (with a disdainful s'mile)
The shoʻrt and si`mple-annals/ of the pooor. The boʻast of heraldry, the po'mp of power,
And all that bea'uty, all that we^alth e'er gʻave, Aw’ait, ali'ke, the inevitable-hour :
The paths of glory-lead but to the graove. Nor y'ou (ye proĽud) impute to the'se the fa'ult,
If me'mory/ o'er their tombs no trophies raisse, Wh'ere (through the long-drawn ais'le and fretted v'ault)
The pealing a'nthem/ swells the n'ote-of prai'se. Can storied ur'n, or animated b’ust,
Back to its man'sion/ call the fleeting br'eath? Can honour's voi'ce/ provoke the silent d'ust,
Or flat^tery/ sooth the d’ull/ col'd-ear of deaoth ? Perhaps/ in this neglected spot is la'id/
Some heart/ once pregnant with celes'tial fi're ;
Or waked to ec'stacy/ the li'ving-lyre:
R'ich/ with the spoils of time, did ne'er unr'oll;
And froze the genial cur'rent/ of the sou'l. Full many a ge'm/ of purest ray serene,
The da'rk/ unfa^thomed-caves/ of ocean b'ear :
Full many a flo'wer/ is born to blush unse°en,
And waste its swe'etness/ on the des'ert-air.
The little tyrant of his fi'elds/ withsto'od :
Some Croomwell/ guiltless of his cou’ntry's blood. The applause of listening se'nates/ to comm'and,
The threats of pai'n and ru'in/ to despi'se, To scatter plen'ty/ o'er a smiling la'nd,
And read their his'tory/ in a nation's ey’es ; Their l'ot forba'de ; nor circumscribed alon'e
Their growing vi’rtues/, but their cri mes confined ; Forbade to wade through slaughter/ to a thr'one,
And shut the gates of mercy/ on manki'nd;
To quench the blus'hes/ of ingenuous sh’ame ;
With incense kin'dled/ at the m'use's fla'me. Far from the madding crowd's/ ignoble str'ife;
Their sober wis'hes/ never learned to stray ; Along the co'ol/ seques'tered-vale of l'ife
They kept the noiseless te'nor/ of their way. Yet even these boʻnes, (from insult to prostect,)
Some frail memori'al/ still erected nigʻh, With uncouth rhy'mes and shapeless sculpture de'cked,
Implores the passing tr'ibute/ of a sig'h. Their na'me, their yeaors, (spelt by the unlet'tered m'use)
The place of fame, and el egy supply; And many a holy te'xt/ around she streľws,
That teach the rustic m'oralist/ to di'e. For wh'o (to dumb Forget fulness a pr'ey)
This plea'sing/ anx'ious-being e'er resign'ed, Left the warm pre cincts/ of the cheerful da'y,
Nor cast one lo'nging, lingering lo'ok behind ? On som'e/ fon'd-breast/ the par^ting-soul/ relie's,
Some pio'us-drops/ the closing-eye requires ;
Even in our a‘shes/ live their wo'nted fi'res.
Do'st/ in these lin'es/ their artless tale relate,
If chan'ce, (by lonely contemplation l'ed,)
Some kin'dred-spirit/ shall inquire thy fat'e ; Ha'ply (some hoary-headed swain/ may s'ay)
“ Oft have we see'n-him/, at the peep of da'wn, Brush'ing (with hasty ste'ps) the de'ws a'way,
“ To meet the s'un/ upon the u'pland-law'n. “ The're at the foot of yonder nodding be'ech,
“ That wreathes its oʻld/ fantastic-roots so hi’gh, “ His listless len'gth/ at noon'tide/ would he str'etch,
“ And po're upon the broʻok/ that babbles by. “ Hard by yon wo'od, (now smi'ling as in sc'orn,)
Muttering his wayward fan'cies/, he would ro've ; “ Now drooʻping, wo'ful, w'an, (like on'e forloʻrn)
“ Or cra'zed with caʼre/ or cros'sed/ in hop`eless love'. “One mo‘rn I misse'd him/ on the accu'stomed hi'll,
Along the hea'th/, and near his favourite tr'ee/ ; “ Another cam'e/, nor yet beside the rill',
“ Nor up the law'n, nor at the woʻod/ was he': “The next, (with dirges due, in sa'd ar'ray,)
“Slow through the church-way pa'th/ we saw him bor’nem Approach, and read (for thoʻu-canst-read) the la'y, “'Grav'ed on the st'one/ beneath yon a'ged tho'rn."
Here rests his hea'd/ upon the la'p of ear'th,
A you'th to for tune) and to faʼme unkno'wn. Fair Sci'ence frow'ned not/ on his humble bir'th ;
And Melancholy-marked-him/ for her owîn. Large was his bou’nty/, and his s'oul sincer'e;
Heaven did a recompense/ as largely se'nd, He gave to m’isery (a'll he haod) a tesar :
He gai'ned from He'aven ('twas a'll he wis'hed) a frie'nd. No farther seek his me'rits/ to disclo'se,
Or draw his fra'ilties from their dread ab'ode, (There they ali'ke in trembling hope rep'ose,)
The bos om of his Father and his God.
* The “Epitaph " should be read in a lower tone of voice, and in such a manner as a good reader would really employ when perusing an inscription in a church-yard.