2 THE ENGLISH GARDEN. 



Why then, alas ! place I the funeral urn, 



The fculptur'd lyre, within this fylvan dome, * 



And fix this votive tablet, fair infcrib'd 



With numbers worthy thee, for they are thine ? 



Why, if thou hearft me ftill, thefe fymbols fad 15 



Of fond memorial ? ah ! my penfive foul ! 



He hears not now, nor ever more {hall hear 



The theme his candour, not his talte approv'd. 



Oft, fmiling as in fcorn, oft would he cry, 

 " Why wafte thy numbers on a trivial art, 2K> 



" That ill can mimic even the humbleft charms 

 " Of all majeflic Nature.?" at the word 



His 



* Mr. Gray died July 31^, 1771. This book was begun a few months 

 after. The three following lines allude to a ruftic alcove the author was then 

 building in his garden, in which he placed a medallion of his friend, and an 

 urn. A lyre over the entrance with the motto from Pindar, which Mr. Gray 

 had prefixt to his Odes 4>flNANTA SYNETOIEI, and under it on a tablet this ftan- 

 za, taken from the firft edition of his Elegy written in a country church-yard* 

 Here fcatter'd oft, the lovlieft of the year, 

 By hands unfeen, are (bowers of violets found j 

 The Redbreaft loves to build and warble here, 

 And little footfteps lightly print the ground. 



