from ELEGY WRITTEN IN
A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD
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…
THE EPITAPH
Here rests his head upon the
lap of Earth
A Youth to Fortune and to
Fame unknown.
Fair Science frown'd not
on his humble birth,
And Melancholy mark'd him
for her own.
Large was his bounty, and
his soul sincere,
Heav'n
did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Mis'ry all he
had, a tear,
He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas
all he wish'd) a friend.
No farther 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.
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