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Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed,
The reverend champion stood. At his control
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last faltering accents whispered praise.

12. At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorned the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.
The service past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran ;
Even children followed, with endearing wile,

And plucked his gown to share the good man's smile;
His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed :
Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed.
To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given,
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.
As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm ;
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

13. Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way
With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,
There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule,
The village master taught his little school;
A man severe he was, and stern to view :
I knew him well, and every truant knew.
Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face;

Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;
Full well the busy whisper, circling round,
Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.
Yet he was kind; or, if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in fault.

14. The village all declared how much he knew:
'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;
Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,
And e'en the story ran that he could gauge;
In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill,
For, e'en though vanquished, he could argue still,
While words of learned length and thundering sound
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around;
And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew,
That one small head could carry all he knew.
But past is all his fame: the very spot
Where many a time he triumphed is forgot.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

DEFINITIONS.-1. Haw'thôrn, a shrub or tree having a fruit called haw. 2. Re mit'ting, giving up; quitting. Sleights, tricks. 3. Děs o la'tion, ruin; destruction. Bit'tern, a wading bird. Lăp'wing, a wading bird of the plover family. 4. Ae eū ́mu lātes, increases greatly. 6. Єŭm/brous, burdensome. 8. Plash'y, watery. Cress'es, plants used as salad. 9. Pass'ing, exceeding. 10. Spěnd'thrift, a prodigal. 11. En dear'ment, act of affection. 13. Fûrze, a thorny evergreen shrub with yellow flowers. Bōd'ing, foretelling. 14. Pre sage', foretell. Gauge, to measure the contents of casks, barrels, etc.

NOTES.-The Deserted Village is supposed to refer to the village of Lishoy, or Lissoy, county of Westmeath, Ireland. Since the poet's time, it has generally received the name of Auburn.

3. Amidst thy towers the tyrant's hand is seen. The character said to be intended in this and other passages was General Robert Napier, an

Englishman, who is well remembered to have ruled the village with a "tyrant's hand."

8. The sad historian of the pensive plain, etc. These lines are supposed to apply to a woman, named Catherine Geraghty, whom the poet had known in earlier and better days. The brook and ditches near the spot where her cabin stood still furnish cresses, and several of her descendants live in the village.

Charles Goldsmith, the

9. The village preacher's modest mansion rose. father of the poet, was, according to some authorities, the original of the village preacher, as well as of the Vicar of Wakefield.

96.-ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY
CHURCHYARD.

THOMAS GRAY was born in London, December 26, 1716. Through the exertions of his mother he was placed at Eton, and afterward went to Cambridge. In 1747 he published his Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, and two years later brought forth his Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. In 1757 appeared his Pindaric Odes, but, though these were full of brilliant fancies and intricate harmony, they lacked sympathy and feeling. His poetry in general is exquisitely finished and delicate, but his subjects are unfamiliar; and his poems, except the Elegy, are little known, and have never become popular. He died July 30, 1771.

1. THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day ;

The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea;
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

2. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,

Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

3. Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower

The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.

4. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,

Each in his narrow cell forever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

5. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,

The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,

No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

6. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care;
No children run to lisp their sire's return,

Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

7. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

8. Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,

Their homely joys, and destiny obscure,
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.

9. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth, e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour:

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

10. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

11. Can storied urn or animated bust

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust,

Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?

12. Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid

Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire, Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

13. 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.

14. 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.

15. 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.

16. 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,

17. 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;

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