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sway.

Vast was his empire, absolute his power, 10
Or bounded only by a law, whose force
'Twas his sublimest privilege to feel
And own, the law of universal love.
He ruled with meekness, they obey'd with
joy;

No cruel purpose lurk'd within his heart, 15
And no distrust of his intent in theirs.
So Eden was a scene of harmless sport,
Where kindness on his part, who ruled the
whole,

Begat a tranquil confidence in all,
And fear as yet was not, nor cause for fear.
But sin marr'd all; and the revolt of man,
That source of evil not exhausted yet,
Was punish'd with revolt of his from him.
Garden of God, how terrible the change
Thy groves and lawns then witness'd! Every
heart,

Each animal, of every name, conceived

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A jealousy, and an instinctive fear,
And, conscious of some danger, either fled
Precipitate, the loath'd abode of man,
Or growl'd defiance in such angry sort, 30
As taught him too to tremble in his turn.
Thus harmony and family accord
Were driven from Paradise; and in that
hour

The seeds of cruelty, that since have swell'd
To such gigantic and enormous growth, 35
Were sown in human nature's fruitful soil.
Hence date the persecution and the pain,
That man inflicts on all inferior kinds,
Regardless of their plaints. To make him
sport,

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To gratify the frenzy of his wrath,
Or his base gluttony, are causes good
And just in his account, why bird and beast
Should suffer torture, and the streams be
dyed

With blood of their inhabitants impaled.
Earth groans beneath the burden of a war
Waged with defenceless innocence, while he,
Not satisfied to prey on all around,
Adds tenfold bitterness to death by pangs
Needless, and first torments ere he devours.
Now happiest they that occupy the scenes
The most remote from his abhorr'd resort,
Whom once, as delegate of God on earth,
They fear'd, and, as his perfect image,
loved.

The wilderness is theirs, with all its caves,
Its hollow glens, its thickets, and its plains,
Unvisited by man.
There they are free,
And howl and roar as likes them uncon-
troll'd;
Nor ask his leave to slumber or to play.
Woe to the tyrant if he dare intrude
Within the confines of their wild domain:
The lion tells him-I am monarch here—
And, if he spare him, spares him on the

terms

Of royal mercy, and through gen'rous scorn
To rend a victim trembling at his foot.
In measure, as by force of instinct drawn,
Or by necessity constrain'd, they live
Dependent upon man; those in his fields,
These at his crib, and some beneath his

roof.

They prove too often at how dear a rate He sells protection.-Witness at his foot 70 The spaniel dying for some venial fault Under dissection of the knotted scourge; Witness the patient ox, with stripes and yells

Driven to the slaughter, goaded, as he

runs,

To madness; while the savage at his heels Laughs at the frantic suff'rer's fury, spent Upon the guiltless passenger o'erthrown. He too is witness, noblest of the train

That wait on man, the flight-performing | But God will never.

horse;

With unsuspecting readiness he takes 80 His murderer on his back; and push'd all day

With bleeding sides and flanks, that heave for life,

To the far distant gaol, arrives and dies. So little mercy shews who needs so much! Does law, so jealous in the cause of man, Denounce no doom on the deliquent? None. He lives, and o'er his brimming beaker boasts

(As if barbarity were high desert)
The inglorious feat, and clamorous in praise
Of the poor brute, seems wisely to suppose
The honours of his matchless horse his own.
But many a crime, deem'd innocent on
earth,

Is register'd in heav'n; and these no doubt
Have each their record, with a curse an-
nex'd.
Man may dismiss compassion from his heart,

When he charged the Jew To assist his foe's down-fallen beast to rise; And when the bush-exploring boy, that

seized

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THOMAS

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GRAY.

not well received. He refused the office of Poet Laureate, offered to him at the death of Colley Cibber, and retired to live a quiet life at Cambridge, where he remained with little interruption till his death in 1771. His celebrity is mainly based upon his beautiful Elegy in a Country Church-yard.' It is one of the finest poems in the English language; and we find it continually quoted by writers from Gray's time till the present day.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,

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Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twitt'ring from the strawbuilt shed,

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

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For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,

Or busy housewife ply her evening care, Nor children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield; Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;

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Full many a gem of purest ray serene,

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The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; For thee, who, mindful of th'unhonour'd Full many a flow'r is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

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dead,

Dost in these lines their artless tale re

late;

If, chance, by lonely contemplation led, 95
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 wreaths its old fantastic roots so

high, 18

His listless length at noon-tide would he | And float amid the liquid noon:

stretch, And pore upon the brook that bubbles by.

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ODE ON THE SPRING.

Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd hours,
Fair Venus' train appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year!
The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckoo's note,
The untaught harmony of spring:
While, whispering pleasure as they fly,
Cool zephyrs through the clear blue sky
Their gather'd fragrance fling.

Some lightly o'er the current skim,
Some show their gaily-gilded trim
Quick-glancing to the sun.

To Contemplation's sober eye
Such is the race of man:

And they that creep, and they that fly,
Shall end where they began.
Alike the busy and the gay
But flutter through life's little day,
In fortune's varying colours drest:
Brush'd by the hand of rough mischance,
Or chill'd by age, the airy dance
They leave, in dust to rest.

Methinks I hear in accents low
The sportive kind reply;
Poor moralist! and what art thou?
A solitary fly!

Thy joys no glittering female meets,
No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,
No painted plumage to display:
On hasty wings thy youth is flown:
The sun is set, thy spring is gone-
We frolic while 'tis May.

THE BARD. (1) I. 1.

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35

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45

50

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Such were the sounds, that o'er the crested pride

Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay, Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side A broader browner shade;

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He wound with toilsome march his long

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'Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race; Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace. Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall re-echo with affright; The shrieks of death, through Berkeley's roofs that ring,

55 Shrieks of an agonizing King! (2) She-wolf of France, (3) with unrelenting fangs, That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,

From thee be born, (4) who o'er thy country hangs

(1) Caernarvonshire. (2) Edward II. murdered in Berkeley Castle. (3) Isabel of France, Edward's adulterous queen. (4) Edward III. famous for his victories over the French.

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Close by the regal chair
Fell Thirst and Famine scowl
A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
Heard ye the din of battle bray, (3)
Lance to lance, and horse to horse?
Long years of havoc urge their destined
course,

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And through the kindred squadrons mow
their way.
Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
Revere his consort's faith, (4) his father's
fame, (5)

And spare the meek usurper's holy head! (6)
Above, below, the rose of snow,
Twined with her blushing foe, we spread:
The bristled Boar (7) in infant gore
Wallows beneath the thorny shade.
Now, brothers, bending o'er th'accursed
loom,
Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify
his doom.

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(1) The Black Prince, who died before his father. (2) Splendour of the early part of the unfortunate Richard II.'s reign. (3) Wars of the Roses. (4) The heroic Margaret of Anjou. (5) Henry V. (6) Henry VI. (7) The badge of Richard III.

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