Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust, or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death?
And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
To Contemplation's sober eye. / Such is the race of Man.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.