"Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown. Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth. And Melancholy marked him for her own."

"One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree: Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he."

"Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn."

"E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our Ashes live their wonted Fires."

"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 ling'ring look behind?"

"And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die."

"Implores the passing tribute of a sigh."

"Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way."

"Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind."

"The applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their hist'ry in a nation's eyes."

"Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little Tyrant of his fields withstood; Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood."

"Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air."

"But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul."

"Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre."

"Can storied urn, or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?"

"Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise."

"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave."

"Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile, The short and simple annals of the poor."

"For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share."

"The breezy call of incense-breathing morn."

"Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep."

"Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds."

"The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me."

"Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all that glisters gold."

"No dolphin came, no Nereid stirred; Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard. A favourite has no friend!"

"What female heart can gold despise? What cat's averse to fish?"

"'Twas on a lofty vase's side, Where China's gayest art had dyed The azure flowers, that blow; Demurest of the tabby kind, The pensive Selima reclined, Gazed on the lake below."

"To each his suff'rings: all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan, The tender for another's pain; Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate? Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies. Thought would destroy their paradise. No more; where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise."

"And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe."

"Grim-visaged comfortless Despair."

"Ah, tell them they are men!"

"Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond today."

"Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, Less pleasing when possest; The tear forgot as soon as shed, The sunshine of the breast."

"Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy."

"Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved in vain! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow."

"Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the wat'ry glade."

"Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far,—but far above the great."

"Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Bright-eyed Fancy hovering o'er Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn."

"He passed the flaming bounds of place and time: The living throne, the sapphire-blaze, Where angels tremble, while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night."

"Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears."

"Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid."

"Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame, Th' unconquerable mind, 3 and freedom's holy flame."

"O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love."

"Glance their many-twinkling feet."

"From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take."

"From toil he wins his spirits light, From busy day the peaceful night; Rich, from the very want of wealth, In heaven's best treasures, peace and health."

"And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose."

"See the wretch that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again: The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise."

"Behind the steps that Misery treads Approaching Comfort view: The hues of bliss more brightly glow Chastised by sabler tints of woe, And blended form, with artful strife, The strength and harmony of life."

"Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new romances of Marivaux and Crebillon."