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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539269" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Elegy XV. In Memory of a Private Family in Worcestershire</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">From a lone tower, with reverend ivy crown'd,<br>The pealing bell awaked a tender sigh;<br>Still, as the village caught the waving sound,<br>A swelling tear distream'd from every eye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So droop'd, I ween, each Briton's breast of old,<br>When the dull curfew spoke their freedom fled;<br>For, sighing as the mournful accent roll'd,<br>'Our hope,' they cried, 'our kind support, is dead!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas good Palemon-Near a shaded pool,<br>A group of ancient elms umbrageous rose;<br>The flocking rooks, by Instinct's native rule,<br>This peaceful scene for their asylum chose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A few small spires, to Gothic fancy fair,<br>Amid the shades emerging, struck the view;<br>'Twas here his youth respired its earliest air;<br>'Twas here his age breathed out its last adieu.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One favour'd son engaged his tenderest care;<br>One pious youth his whole affection crown'd;<br>In his young breast the virtues sprung so fair,<br>Such charms display'd, such sweets diffused around.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But whilst gay transport in his face appears,<br>A noxious vapour clogs the poison'd sky,<br>Blasts the fair crop-the sire is drown'd in tears,<br>And, scarce surviving, sees his Cynthio die!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er the pale corse we saw him gently bend:<br>Heart-chill'd with grief-'My thread,' he cried, 'is spun!<br>If Heaven had meant I should my life extend,<br>Heaven had preserved my life's support, my son.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Snatch'd in thy prime! alas! the stroke were mild,<br>Had my frail form obey'd the Fates' decree!<br>Bless'd were my lot, O Cynthio! O my child!<br>Had Heaven so pleased, and had I died for thee.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Five sleepless nights he stemm'd this tide of woes<br>Five irksome suns he saw, through tears, forlorn!<br>On his pale corse the sixth sad morning rose<br>From yonder dome the mournful bier was borne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas on those Downs, by Roman hosts annoy'd,<br>Fought our bold fathers, rustic, unrefined!<br>Freedom's plain sons, in martial cares employ'd!<br>They tinged their bodies, but unmask'd their mind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas there, in happier times, this virtuous race,<br>Of milder merit, fix'd their calm retreat:<br>War's deadly crimson had forsook the place,<br>And freedom fondly loved the chosen seat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No wild ambition fired their tranquil breast,<br>To swell with empty sounds a spotless name;<br>If fostering skies, the sun, the shower, were blest,<br>Their bounty spread; their fie1ds' extent the same.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Those fields, profuse of raiment, food, and fire,<br>They scorn'd to lessen, careless to extend;<br>Bade Luxury to lavish courts aspire,<br>And Avarice to city breasts descend.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">None to a virgin's mind preferr'd her dower,<br>To sire with vicious hopes a modest heir:<br>The sire, in place of titles, wealth, or power,<br>Assign'd him virtue; and his lot was fair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They spoke of Fortune, as some doubtful dame,<br>That sway'd the natives of a distant sphere;<br>From Lucre's vagrant sons had learn'd her fame,<br>But never wish'd to place her banners here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here youth's free spirit, innocently gay,<br>Enjoy'd the most that Innocence can give;<br>Those wholesome sweets that border Virtue's way;<br>Those cooling fruits that we may taste, and live.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Their board no strange ambiguous viand bore<br>From their own streams their choicer fare they drew;<br>To lure the scaly glutton to the shore,<br>The sole deceit their artless bosom knew!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sincere themselves, ah! too secure to find<br>The common bosom, like their own, sincere!<br>'Tis its own guilt alarms the jealous mind;<br>'Tis her own poison bids the viper fear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sketch'd on the lattice of th' adjacent fane,<br>Their suppliant busts implore the reader's prayer<br>Ah, gentle souls! enjoy your blissful reign,<br>And let frail mortals claim your guardian care.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For sure, to blissful realms the souls are flown,<br>That never flatter'd, injured, censured, strove;<br>The friends of science-music, all their own;<br>Music, the voice of Virtue and of Love!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The journeying peasant, through the secret shade,<br>Heard their soft lyres engage his listening ear,<br>And haply deem'd some courteous angel play'd:<br>No angel play'd-but might with transport hear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For these the sounds that chase unholy strife!<br>Solve Envy's charm, Ambition's wretch release!<br>Raise him to spurn the radiant ills of life,<br>To pity pomp, to be content with peace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Farewell, pure Spirits! vain the praise we give,<br>The praise you sought from lips angelic flows;<br>Farewell! the virtues which deserve to live<br>Deserve an ampler bliss than life bestows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Last of his race, Palemon, now no more,<br>The modest merit of his line display'd;<br>Then pious Hough, Vigornia's mitre wore-<br>Soft sleep the dust of each deserving shade!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Shenstone">William Shenstone</a><div class=q>
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The pealing bell awaked a tender sigh;
Still, as the village caught the waving sound,
A swelling tear distream'd from every eye.

So droop'd, I ween, each Briton's breast of old,
When the dull curfew s..."></div>
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