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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=506336" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Grave (excerpt)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">While some affect the sun, and some the shade.<br> Some flee the city, some the hermitage;<br> Their aims as various, as the roads they take<br> In journeying thro' life;--the task be mine,<br> To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb;<br> Th' appointed place of rendezvous, where all<br> These travellers meet.--Thy succours I implore,<br> Eternal King! whose potent arm sustains<br> The keys of Hell and Death.--The Grave, dread thing!<br> Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appall'd<br> Shakes off her wonted firmness.--Ah ! how dark<br> The long-extended realms, and rueful wastes!<br> Where nought but silence reigns, and night, dark night,<br> Dark as was chaos, ere the infant Sun<br> Was roll'd together, or had tried his beams<br> Athwart the gloom profound.--The sickly taper,<br> By glimm'ring thro' thy low-brow'd misty vaults,<br> (Furr'd round with mouldy damps, and ropy slime)<br> Lets fall a supernumerary horror,<br> And only serves to make thy night more irksome.<br> Well do I know thee by thy trusty yew,<br> Cheerless, unsocial plant! that loves to dwell<br> 'Midst skulls and coffins, epitaphs and worms:<br> Where light-heel'd ghosts, and visionary shades,<br> Beneath the wan, cold moon (as fame reports)<br> Embodied thick, perform their mystic rounds,<br> No other merriment, dull tree! is thine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> See yonder hallow'd fane;--the pious work<br> Of names once fam'd, now dubious or forgot,<br> And buried midst the wreck of things which were;<br> There lie interr'd the more illustrious dead.<br> The wind is up:--hark! how it howls!--Methinks,<br> 'Till now, I never heard a sound so dreary:<br> Doors creak, and windows clap, and night's foul bird,<br> Rook'd in the spire, screams loud; the gloomy aisles<br> Black plaster'd, and hung round with shreds f 'scutcheons,<br> And tatter'd coats of arms, send back the sund,<br> Laden with heavier airs, from the low vaults,<br> The mansions of the dead.--Rous'd from their slumbers,<br> In grim array the grisly spectres rise,<br> Grin horrible, and, obstinately sullen,<br> Pass and repass, hush'd as the foot of night.<br> Again the screech-owl shrieks--ungracious sound!<br> I'll hear no more; it makes one's blood run chill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Quite round the pile, a row of reverend elms,<br> (Coeval near with that) all ragged show,<br> Long lash'd by the rude winds. Some rift half down<br> Their branchless trunks; others so thin at top,<br> That scarce two crows can lodge in the same tree.<br> Strange things, the neighbours say, have happen'd here;<br> Wild shrieks have issued from the hollow tombs;<br> Dead men have come again, and walk'd about;<br> And the great bell has toll'd, unrung, untouch'd.<br> (Such tales their cheer at wake or gossipping,<br> When it draws near to witching time of night.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Oft in the lone church yard at night I've seen,<br> By glimpse of moonshine chequering thro' the trees,<br> The school boy, with his satchel in his hand,<br> Whistling aloud to bear his courage up,<br> And lightly tripping o'er the long flat stones,<br> (With nettles skirted, and with moss o'ergrown,)<br> That tell in homely phrase who lie below.<br> Sudden he starts, and hears, or thinks he hears,<br> The sound of something purring at his heels;<br> Full fast he flies, and dare not look behind him,<br> 'Till, out of breath, he overtakes his fellows,<br> Who gather round and wonder at the tale<br> Of horrid apparition tall and ghastly,<br> That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand<br> O'er some new-open'd grave; and (strange to tell!)<br> Evanishes at crowing of the cock.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The new-made widow, too, I've sometimes 'spy'd,<br> Sad sight! slow moving o'er the prostrate dead:<br> Listless, she crawls along in doleful black,<br> While bursts of sorrow gush from either eye,<br> Fast falling down her now untasted cheek,<br> Prone on the lowly grave of the dear man<br> She drops; while busy meddling memory,<br> In barbarous succession, musters up<br> The past endearments of their softer hours,<br> Tenacious of its theme. Still, still she thinks<br> She sees him, and indulging the fond thought,<br> Clings yet more closely to the senseless turf,<br> Nor heeds the passenger who looks that way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Invidious Grave!--how dost thou rend in sunder<br> Whom love has knit, and sympathy made one?<br> A tie more stubborn far than Nature's band.<br> Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul,<br> Sweet'ner of life, and solder of society,<br> I owe thee much. Thou hast deserv'd from me,<br> Far, far beyond what I can ever pay.<br> Oft have I prov'd the labours of thy love,<br> And the warm efforts of the gentle heart,<br> Anxious to please.--Oh! when my friend and I<br> In some thick wood have wander'd heedless on,<br> Hid from the vulgar eye, and sat us down<br> Upon the sloping cowslip-cover'd bank,<br> Where the pure limpid stream has slid along<br> In grateful errors thro' the underwood,<br> Sweet murmuring; methought the shrill-tongued thrush<br> Mended his song of love; the sooty blackbird<br> Mellow'd his pipe, and soften'd every note:<br> The eglantine smell'd sweeter, and the rose<br> Assum'd a dye more deep; whilst ev'ry flower<br> Vied with its fellow-plant in luxury<br> Of dress--Oh! then the longest summer's day<br> Seem'd too too much in haste; still the full heart<br> Had not imparted half: 'twas happiness<br> Too exquisite to last. Of joys departed,<br> Not to return, how painful the remembrance!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Blair">Robert Blair</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=506336" data-title="The Grave (excerpt) de Robert Blair" data-description="While some affect the sun, and some the shade.
 Some flee the city, some the hermitage;
 Their aims as various, as the roads they take
 In journeying thro' life;--the task be mine,
 To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb;
 Th' appointed place of ..."></div>
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