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.
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.
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.
The applause of listening senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes.
Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
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.
Yet even these bones from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still erected nigh
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply;
ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
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;
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate;
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say;
"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
"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 pour upon the brook that babbles by.
"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful, wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.
"One morn I missed him on the 'customed hill,
Along the heath and near his favorite 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; Approach and read-for thou canst read-the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn,"
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.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send;
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.
THE bravest battle that ever was fought,
Shall I tell you where and when?
On the maps of the world you'll find it not;
'Twas fought by the mothers of men.
Nay, not with cannon or battle shot,
With sword or nobler pen;
Nay, not with eloquent word or thought
From mouth of wonderful men.
But deep in a walled-up woman's heart—
Of woman that would not yield,
But bravely, silently bore her part—
Lo! there is the battle-field.
No marshalling troop, no bivouac song,
No banner to gleam and wave!
But oh, these battles, they last so long-
From babyhood to the grave.
FOUR little sunbeams came earthward one day,
Shining and dancing on their way,
Resolved that their course should be blest,
"Let us try," they all whispered, "some kindness to do,
Not seek our own pleasure all the day through,
Then meet in the eve in the west."
One sunbeam ran in a low cottage door,
And played "hide-and-seek" with a child on the floor,
Till the baby laughed loud in his glee,
And chased in delight his strange playmate so bright,
The little hands grasping in vain for the light
That ever before them would flee.
One crept to the couch where an invalid lay,
And brought him a dream of the sweet summer day,
Its bird song, and beauty, and bloom,
Till pain was forgotten, and weary unrest,
And in fancy he roamed through the scenes he loved best,
Far away from the dim darkened room.
One stole in the heart of a flower that was sad,
And loved and caressed her until she was glad,
And lifted her white face again;
For love brings content to the lowliest lot,
And finds something sweet in the dreariest spot,
And lightens all labor and pain.
And one, where a little blind girl sat alone,
Not sharing the mirth of her playfellows, shone
On hands that were folded and pale,
And kissed the poor eyes that had never known sight,
That never would gaze on the beautiful light
Till the angels had lifted the veil.
At last when the shadows of evening were falling,
And the sun, their father, his children was calling,
Four sunbeams passed into the west,
All said: "We have found in seeking the pleasure
Of others, we find to the full our own measure."
Then softly they sank to their rest.
LET BY-GONES BE BY-GONES.
LET by-gones be by-gones. If by-gones were clouded
By aught that occasioned a pang of regret,
O, let them in darkest oblivion be shrouded;
"Tis wise and 'tis kind to forgive and forget.
Let by-gones be by-gones, and good be extracted
From ill over which it is folly to fret;
The wisest of mortals have foolishly acted-
The kindest are those who forgive and forget.
Let by-gones be by-gones. O, cherish no longer
The thought that the sun of affection has set;
Eclipsed for a moment, its rays will be stronger,
If you, like a Christian, forgive and forget.
Let by-gones be by-gones. Your heart will be lighter
When kindness of yours with reception has met;
The flame of your love will be purer and brighter,
If, God-like, you strive to forgive and forget.
Let by-gones be by-gones. O, purge out the leaven
Of malice, and try an example to set
To others, who, craving the mercy of Heaven,
Are sadly too slow to forgive and forget.
Let by-gones be by gones. Remember how deeply
To Heaven's forbearance we all are in debt;
They value God's infinite goodness too cheaply
Who heed not the precept, "Forgive and forget."
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