John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.
Page 384
| Thomas Gray. (1716–1771) (continued) |
| 4181 |
| Iron sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darken’d air. |
| The Fatal Sisters. Line 3. |
| 4182 |
| The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lea, 1 The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. |
| Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 1. |
| 4183 |
| Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. |
| Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 4. |
| 4184 |
| The breezy call of incense-breathing morn. |
| Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 5. |
| 4185 |
| Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. |
| Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 8. |
| 4186 |
| The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. |
| Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 9. |
| 4187 |
| Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. |
| Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 10. |
| 4188 |
| Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can honour’s voice provoke the silent dust, Or flatt’ry soothe the dull cold ear of death? |
| Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 11. |
| 4189 |
| Hands that the rod of empire might have sway’d, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. |
| Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 12. |
| 4190 |
| But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne’er unroll; 2 Chill penury repress’d their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul. |
| Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 13. |
| Note 1. The first edition reads,— “The lowing herds wind slowly o’er the lea.” [back] |
| Note 2. See Sir Thomas Browne, Quotation 2. [back] |