Low on his funeral couch he lies!

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.

Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.

And weep the more, because I weep in vain.

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?

I shall be but a shrimp of an author.

And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.