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LONDON: Printed by J. HUGH),.
For R. and J. DODSLEY,at Tully's-Head in Pall-Mall.

M DCC LXIII.

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By Mr. ĠRAY.
HE curfew tolls the knell of parting day,

The lowing herd wind flowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homewards plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me,

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the fight;
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the diftant folds;
Vol. IV.

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Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow's
The mopeing owl does to the moon complain
Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,
Moleft her ancient, folitary reign.

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Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude Forefathers of the hamlet Neep.

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The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built fhed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall roufe them from their lowly bed.

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For them no more the blazing hearth fhall burn,
Or busy houswife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their fire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

Oft did the harvest to their fickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

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Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile,
The short and fimple annals of the poor.

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