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Or fix this votive tablet, fair inscrib'd
“Oft, smiling as in scorn,' oft would he cry,
allude to a rustic alcove the author was then building in his garden, in which he placed a medallion of his friend, and an urn; a lyre over the entrance with the motto from Pindar, which Mr. Gray had prefixt to his Odes, and under it, on a tablet, this stanza, taken from the first edition of his Elegy written in a Country Church-yard.
Here scatter'd oft, the loveliest of the year,
66 To build her such a throne ; that art will feel
« E'er brace the sinews of enervate art
“ Her hand to emulate those softer charms
" That deck the banks of Dove, or call to birth 1 “The bare romantic craggs, and copses green, | “That sidelong grace her circuit, whence the rills,
“ Bright in their crystal purity, descend “ To meet their sparkling queen ? around each fount “ The hawthorns crowd, and knit their blossom'd
“sprays “ To keep their sources sacred. Here, even here, “ Thy art, each active sinew stretch'd in vain, “ Would perish in its pride. Far rather thou
“ Confess her scanty power, correct, controul, “ Tell her how far, nor farther, she may go ; “ And rein with reason's curb fantastic taste.”
Yes, I will hear thee, dear lamented shade, And hold each dictate sacred. What remains Unsung shall so each leading rule select As if still guided by thy judgment sage; While, as still modell’d to thy curious ear, Flow my melodious numbers; so shall praise, If aught of praise the verse I weave may claim, From just posterity reward my song,
FRAGMENT OF AN ODE
DEATH OF MR. GRAY.
Fair are the gardens of the Aonian mount,
And sweet those blooming flow'rs
Which paint the Maiden's bow'rs. . And clear the waters of the gurgling fount:
Swift they wind through chequer'd allies;
Huddling down to th’ open vallies ; Where the quick ripple in the sunbeams plays, Turning to endless forms each glance of twinkling
O’er the gay scene th' enamour'd inmates roam:
Alas! for whom !
Many a sad and sable mood,
Keep death-like silence on their native shore,
Flown is the spirit of GRAY
That to breathe harmonious lay. .
They bid their plaintive accents fill
With liquid voice and magic hand
Calliope informs the band : Hush'd are the warblers of the grove, attentive to
“ Soft and slow
Let the melting measures flow,
“ Who saw'st the Poet's flame expire,
« O’er his well-deserving head.
Cambridge University, where Gray died.