Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet ev❜n these bones from insult to protect Some frail memorial still erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse, And many a holy text around she strews, For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, On some fond breast the parting soul relies, For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, If chance, by lonely contemplation led, 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 pore upon the brook that babbles by. "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove; Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn, Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. "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 : "The next, with dirges due, in sad array, Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne : Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Here rests his head upon the lap of earth Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, 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. |