. English lyrics from Dryden to Burns . would rove;Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,Or crazed with care, or crossd in hopeless love. 1 One morn I missd him on the customd hill, Along the heath, and near his favorite tree; no Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; The next with dirges due in sad arraySlow through the church-way path we saw him borne, —Approach and read (for thou canst read) the. lay 115 Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn. THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown; Fair
. English lyrics from Dryden to Burns . would rove;Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,Or crazed with care, or crossd in hopeless love. 1 One morn I missd him on the customd hill, Along the heath, and near his favorite tree; no Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; The next with dirges due in sad arraySlow through the church-way path we saw him borne, —Approach and read (for thou canst read) the. lay 115 Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn. THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown; Fair science frownd not on his humble birth And melancholy markd him for her own. 120 Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere; Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to misery (all he had) a tear, He gaind from Heaven (twas all he wishd) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, 125 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode(There they alike in trembling hope repose),The bosom of his Father and his God. Thomas Gray. Oliver Goldsmith Oliver Goldsmith 43 THE DESERTED VILLAGE Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheered the laboring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, And parting summers lingering blooms delayed; Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, 5 Seats of my youth when every sport could please, How often have I loitered oer thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene! How often have I paused on every charm — The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, 10 The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topt the neighboring hill, The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made; How often have I blest the coming day 15 When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labor free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree; While many a pastime circled in the shade, The young contending as the old surveyed, 20
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdeca, booksubjectenglishpoetry, bookyear1912
