To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb;"
Th' appointed place of rendezvous, where all
Thefe trav'llers meet. Thy fuccours I implore,
Eternal King! whofe potent arm fuftains
The keys of hell and death *.
The Grave, dread thing + !
Men fhiver when thou'rt nam'd! Nature appall'a
Shakes off her wonted firmnefs.
Thy long extended realms and rueful wastes!
Where nought but filence reigns, and night, dark night!
Dark as was Chaos, ere the infant fun
Was roll'd together; or had tried its beams
Athwart the gloom profound! The fickly taper,
By glimm'ring thro' thy low brow'd misty vaults,
Furr'd round with mouldy damps and ropy flime,
Lets fall a fupernumerary horror,
And only ferves to make thy night more irk fome.
Well do I know thee by thy trufty yew,
Chearlefs, unfocial plant! that loves to dwell
'Mid fculls and coffins, epitaphs and worms;
Where light-heel'd ghofts and vifionary fhades,
The Grave has eloquence; its lectures teach
In filence, louder than divines can preach;
Hear what it fays-ye fons of folly! hear;
It fpeaks to you, lend an attentive car. MOORE.
Beneath the wan cold moon (as fame reports}
Embodied thick, perform their myftic rounds;
No other merriment, dull tree! is thine.
See yonder hallow'd fane; the pious work
Of names once fam'd, now dubious or forgot,
And buried 'midft the wreck of things which were;
There lie interr'd the moft illuftrious dead.
The wind is up: hark how it howls! methinks,
Till now, I never heard a found fo dreary:
Doors creak, and windows clap, and night's foul bird
Rook'd in the fpire fcreams loud; the gloomy aifles
Black plaifter'd and hung round with fhreds of fcutcheons
And tatter'd coats of arms, fend back the found,
Laden with heavier airs, from the low vaults,
The mansions of the dead. Rous'd from their flumbers
In grim array the grifly spectres rife,
Grin horrible, and obftinately fullen
Pafs and repafs, hufh'd as the foot of night t.
Again the fcreech-owl fhrieks: ungracious found!
I'll hear no more; it makes one's blood run chill.
Quite round the pile a row of rev'rend elms,
Coæval near with that, all ragged fhew,
Long lafh'd by the rude winds: fome rift half down
*The fcreech-owl.
+ So Village ftories idly tell.
Their branchless trunks: others fo thin a-top
That scarce two crows can lodge in the fame tree.
Strange things, the neighbours fay, have happen'd here;
Wild fhrieks have iffued from the hollow tombs ;
Dead men have come again, and walk'd about;
And the great bell has toll'd, unrung, untouch'd;
Such tales their cheer, at wake, or goffiping,
When it draws near to watching time of night.
Oft in the lone church-yard, at night I've feen
By glimpse of moon-fhine, chequ'ring thro' the trees,
The fchool-boy, with his fatchel in his hand,
Whifting aloud to bear his courage up;
And lighly trripping o'er the long flat flones
(With nettles skirted, and with mofs o'er grown)
That tell in homely phrafe who lie below;
Sudden he starts! and hears, or thinks he hears,
The found of fomething purring at his heels.
Full faft he flies, and dares not look behind him,
Till out of breath he overtakes his fellows;
Who gather round, and wonder at the tale
Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly,
That walks at dead of night, or takes his fland
O'er fome new open'd grave; and, ftrange to tell!
Evanishes at crowing of the cock *.
* This natural and friking piƐlure well deferves generat
The new-made widow too I've fometimes fpied;
Sad fight! flow moving o'er the proftrate dead:
Lifelefs fhe crawls along in doleful black,
While bursts of forrow gush from either eye
Faft falling down her now untafted cheek.
Prone on the lonely grave of the dear man
She drops! whilft bufy meddling memory,
In barbarous fucceffion, mufters up
The paft endearments of their fofter hours,
Tenacious of its theme. Still, ftill she thinks
She fees him, and indulging the fond thought,
Still clings more closely to the fenfeless turf,
Nor heeds the paffenger who looks that way.
Invidious grave ! how durft thou rend in funder
Whom love has kuit, and fympathy made one ?
A tie more ftubborn far than nature's band.
Friendship! myfterious cement of the foul;
Sweet'ner of life! and folder + of fociety!
I owe thee much. Thou haft deserved from me
Far, far beyond what I can ever pay.
Oft have I prov'd the labours of thy love,
And the warm efforts of the gentle heart
Anxious to please *. Oft when
+ Strengthener or uniter.
Where heart meets heart reciprocally foft,
Each other's pillow to repofe divine.
In fome thick wood have wander'd heedlefs on,
Hid from the vulgar eye; and fat us down'
Upon the flopeing cowflip-cover'd bank,
Where the pure limpid ftream has flid along,
In grateful errors thro' the underwood
Sweet murm'ring; methought the fhrill-tongued thruf
Mended his fong of love; the footy black-bird
Mellow'd his pipe and foften'd ev'ry note:
The eglantine fmell'd fweeter, and the rofe
Affum'd a dye more deep; whilft ev'ry flower
Vied with its fellow-plat in luxury
Of drefs. O! the longeft fummer's-day
Seemed too, too much in hafte: fill the full heart
Had not imparted half: 'twas happiness
Too exquifite to laft. Of joys departed,
Not to return, how painful the remembrance*!
Dull grave! thou fpoil'ft the dance of youthful blood,
Strik'ft out the dimple from the cheek of mirth,
And ev'ry fmirking feature from the face;
Branding our laughter with the name of madnefs t.
But let the truly GOOD man think with pleafure, on endlefs joys to come.
Let the young and gay learn hence to be ferious, and redeem their time, knowing that the days are evil; let the rich and great learn alfo the folly of ambition and trufting in abundance, knowing fooner or later riches make themfelves wings and flee away,
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