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Sep

Gray’s Elegy

by Lorenz

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Gray’s Elegy is one of the most beautiful poems in the English language and has brought to the English language such immortal phrases as:

“Far from the madding crowd”

“The paths of glory”

“Celestial fire”

“The unlettered muse”

“Kindred spirit”

“Some mute inglorious Milton”

When Abraham Lincoln was asked to help John Locke Scripps write a bio on him for his campaign, Abraham Lincoln quoted Gray’s Elegy:

“Why Scripps, … it is a great piece of folly to attempt to make anything out of my early life. It can all be condensed into a single sentence, and that sentence you will find in Gray’s Elegy,

The Short and simple annals of the poor.

That’s my life, and that’s all you or any one else can make of it.”

Gray's monument

Gray's monument

It is believed that Gray wrote his masterpiece, the Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard, in the graveyard of the church in Stoke Poges, Buckinghamshire in 1750. The poem was a literary sensation when published by Robert Dodsley in February 1751 and has made a lasting contribution to English literature. Its reflective, calm and stoic tone was greatly admired, and it was pirated, imitated, quoted and translated into Latin and Greek. It is still one of the most popular and most frequently quoted poems in the English language: Before the Battle of the Plains of Abraham, British General James Wolfe is said to have recited it to his officers, adding: “Gentlemen, I would rather have written that poem than take Quebec tomorrow”

Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard

by Thomas Gray

The language of this poem is ancient and can often be confusing to the modern English speaker. A full explanation of all vocabulary used can be found in this book or can be downloaded as PDF here.

Notes and translations are provided with the text. Where a note exists, the line number will be shown in blue, and upon clicking the number, you will be taken to notes on that particular line…

My analysis of the poem can be found here.

1 The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
2 The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea,
3 The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
4 And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
5 Now fades the glimm’ring landscape on the sight,
6 And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
7 Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
8 And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
9 Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow’r
10 The moping owl does to the moon complain
11 Of such, as wand’ring near her secret bow’r,
12 Molest her ancient solitary reign.
13 Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,
14 Where heaves the turf in many a mould’ring heap,
15 Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
16 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
17 The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,
18 The swallow twitt’ring from the straw-built shed,
19 The cock’s shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
20 No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
21 For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
22 Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
23 No children run to lisp their sire’s return,
24 Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
25 Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
26 Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
27 How jocund did they drive their team afield!
28 How bow’d the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
29 Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
30 Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
31 Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
32 The short and simple annals of the poor.
33 The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r,
34 And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave,
35 Awaits alike th’ inevitable hour.
36 The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
37 Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
38 If Mem’ry o’er their tomb no trophies raise,
39 Where thro’ the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
40 The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
41 Can storied urn or animated bust
42 Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
43 Can Honour’s voice provoke the silent dust,
44 Or Flatt’ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
45 Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
46 Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
47 Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway’d,
48 Or wak’d to ecstasy the living lyre.
49 But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page
50 Rich with the spoils of time did ne’er unroll;
51 Chill Penury repress’d their noble rage,
52 And froze the genial current of the soul.
53 Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
54 The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean bear:
55 Full many a flow’r is born to blush unseen,
56 And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
57 Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
58 The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
59 Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
60 Some Cromwell guiltless of his country’s blood.
61 Th’ applause of list’ning senates to command,
62 The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
63 To scatter plenty o’er a smiling land,
64 And read their hist’ry in a nation’s eyes,
65 Their lot forbade: nor circumscrib’d alone
66 Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin’d;
67 Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
68 And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
69 The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
70 To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
71 Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
72 With incense kindled at the Muse’s flame.
73 Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife,
74 Their sober wishes never learn’d to stray;
75 Along the cool sequester’d vale of life
76 They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
77 Yet ev’n these bones from insult to protect,
78 Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
79 With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck’d,
80 Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
81 Their name, their years, spelt by th’ unletter’d muse,
82 The place of fame and elegy supply:
83 And many a holy text around she strews,
84 That teach the rustic moralist to die.
85 For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
86 This pleasing anxious being e’er resign’d,
87 Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
88 Nor cast one longing, ling’ring look behind?
89 On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
90 Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
91 Ev’n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
92 Ev’n in our ashes live their wonted fires.
93 For thee, who mindful of th’ unhonour’d Dead
94 Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
95 If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
96 Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,
97 Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
98 “Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
99 Brushing with hasty steps the dews away
100 To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
101 “There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
102 That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
103 His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
104 And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
105 “Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
106 Mutt’ring his wayward fancies he would rove,
107 Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
108 Or craz’d with care, or cross’d in hopeless love.
109 “One morn I miss’d him on the custom’d hill,
110 Along the heath and near his fav’rite tree;
111 Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
112 Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;
113 “The next with dirges due in sad array
114 Slow thro’ the church-way path we saw him borne.
115 Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay,
116 Grav’d on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.”
THE EPITAPH
117 Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
118 A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
119 Fair Science frown’d not on his humble birth,
120 And Melancholy mark’d him for her own.
121 Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
122 Heav’n did a recompense as largely send:
123 He gave to Mis’ry all he had, a tear,
124 He gain’d from Heav’n (’twas all he wish’d) a friend.
125 No farther seek his merits to disclose,
126 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
127 (There they alike in trembling hope repose)
128 The bosom of his Father and his God.

Notes

] curfew: originally rung at eight o’clock as a signal for extinguishing fires; after this practice had ceased, the word was applied to an evening bell.

Gray’s annotation:

[tolls]

[Era gia l' ora, che volge 'l disio

A' naviganti, e 'ntenerisce 'l cuore

Lo di ch' han detto a' dolci amici addio:

E che lo nuovo peregrin d' amore

Punge, se ode] — squilla di lontano

Che paia ‘l giorno pianger, che si muore.

[(It was already the hour which turns back the desire

Of the sailors, and melts their hearts,

The day that they have said good-bye to their sweet friends,

And which pierces the new pilgrim with love,

If he hears) — from afar the bell

Which seems to mourn the dying day.]

Dante. Purgat. l. 8. [Canto 8 lines i-vi.]

] tinklings: made by sheep-bells.

] Cf. Robert Colvill’s “Britain, a Poem,” II, 45-57:

Even thus, the keen ey’d falcon swift descends

On Pallas’ bird victorious; long he watch’d

The tempting spoil, and she his rage defy’d,

Close shelter’d in her ivy mantl’d tower;

Compell’d abroad, while circling slow she wheels

In quest of food, and least expects the snare,

Strait from his airy flight the victor stoops,

As lightning-swift, and bears the captive prey. (450-57)

] rude: unlearned.

] incense-breathing: cf. Paradise Lost, IX, 193-4. Also Pope, Messiah, 24: “With all the incense of the breathing spring.”

] The cock’s shrill clarion: cf. Paradise Lost, VII, 443-44: “the crested cock, whose clarion sounds/The silent hours.” Cf. Paul Whitehead’s “The State of Rome” (1739), lines 173-74:

But hold, War’s Rumour! mark the loud Alarms!

Hark the shrill Clarion sounds to Arms, to Arms!

] broke: old `strong’ form of the past participle, `broken.’

] homely: domestic.

] short and simple annals: parish registers of births, christenings, marriages, and deaths (Richard Leighton Greene, “Gray’s Elegy written in a Country Churchyard,” The Explicator 24.6 [Feb. 1966].)

] Cf. Henry Needler’s “Horace. Book IV. Ode VII. Paraphras’d,” lines 30-34:

When once th’ inevitable Hour is come,

At which thou must receive thy final Doom;

Thy Noble Birth, thy Eloquence Divine,

And shining Piety shall nought encline

The stubborn Will of unrelenting Fate …

and Richard West’s “A Monody on the Death of Queen Caroline” (Dodsley’s Collection of Poems [1748]: II, 273):

Ah me! What boots us all our boasted power,

Our golden treasure, and our purpled state?

They cannot ward the inevitable hour,

Nor stay the fearful violence of Fate.

A collective (singular) subject is possible, though the word `hour’ might also be the subject of the word `awaits.’

] Cf. Pope’s “The First Book of the Odyssey,” lines 391-92:

O greatly bless’d with ev’ry blooming grace!

With equal steps the paths of glory trace ..

] Trophies: memorials.

] fretted: adorned with carved or embossed work. Cf. Hamlet, II, ii: “this majestical roof fretted with golden fire.”

] Cf. Samuel Whyte’s “Elegy II” (1722), lines 119-20:

No breathing Marble o’er his Dust shall stand;

No storied Urn shall celebrate his Name …

] provoke: in its original sense, to call forth, to challenge.

] rage: as often in the poetry of the eighteenth century, poetic fire (furor poeticus).

] Hampden: John Hampden (ca. 1595-1643), one of the noblest of English Parliamentary statesmen; a central figure of the English revolution in its earlier stages.

] Cf. Joseph Trapp’s “Virgil’s Aeneis,” IV, 512-14:

He, to protract his aged Father’s Life,

Chose Skill in Med’cine, and the Pow’rs of Herbs;

And exercis’d a mute inglorious Art.

] conscious truth: truthful awareness of inward guilt.

] In the Eton MS. this line was followed by four stanzas which were omitted in the published text. Here, according to Mason, the poem was intended to close; the “hoary-headed swain” and the epitaph were after-thoughts.

pious: dutiful.

] Cf. Henry Jones’ “On seeing a Picture of his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, which was presented to the University of Dublin” (1749), lines 61-64:

Her favour’d Sons from ‘midst the madding Crowd,

Her Sons select with gentle Hand she drew,

Secreted timely from th’austere and proud,

Their Fame wide-spreading, tho’ their Numbers few.

madding: outraged.

] Gray’s note refers to Petrarch’s sonnet 169:

Ch’i veggio nel pensier, dolce mio fuoco,

Fredda una lingua, & due begli occhi chiusi

Rimaner doppo noi pien di faville.

[For I see in my thoughts, my sweet fire,

One cold tongue, and two beautiful closed eyes

Will remain full of sparks after our death.]

Petrarch. Son. 169. [170 in usual enumeration]

] lawn: meadow. In the Eton MS. after lìne 100 there is the following stanza: “Him have we seen the greenwood side along, /While o’er the heath we hied, our labours done, /Oft as the woodlark pip’d her farewell song,/With wistful eyes pursue the setting sun.” Mason is puzzled by Gray’s rejection of this stanza for the published text.

Sometimes compared to another elegy, John Milton’s “Lycidas,” lines 25-31:

Together both, ere the high lawns appear’d

Under the opening eyelids of the morn,

We drove afield, and both together heard

What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn,

Batt’ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night,

Oft till the star that rose at ev’ning bright

Toward heav’n's descent had slop’d his westering wheel.

] next: following morning. sad: serious.

] In some of the first editions of the poem, the following stanza preceded the epitaph: “There scatter’d oft, the earliest of the year,/By hands unseen are show’rs of violets found;/The redbreast loves to build and warble there,/And little footsteps lightly print the ground.” According to a marginal note of Gray, it was “omitted in 1753.” Mason explains the omission by saying that Gray found it formed “too long a parenthesis in this place.” The epitaph is not in the early Eton manuscript of the poem.

] Here lies: the Latin “hic jacet.”

] Cf. John Oldmixon’s “Epistle V: Queen Elizabeth to the Earl of Essex” (1703), lines 37-40:

Warm’d by my Smiles, and kindled into Man,

Thy Soul to feel Heroick Flames began:

Till then to Fortune, and to Fame, unknown,

Who since defended, and adorn’d the Throne.

] Science: knowledge in the general sense. Cf. Ode on Eton College, 3, and note.

] Gray’s note:

— paventosa speme. [— fearful hope]

Petrarch. Son. 114. [115 in usual enumeration]

Commentary by Lorenz Lammens

Cleanth Brooks thought of the Elegy as ironic but it struck Samual Johnson as sentimental. Like any work of art, the poem presents itself as a mirror, it triggers a response in which we are reflected. Both Brooks and Johnson were probably right, because the poem stands as much on its own as it carries the soul of the reader within it.

And so does it reflect our society. Gray’s poem can be read as one that seeks the universal man within us, from the perspective of death. All the pomp of our society is stripped by this final event, and within it we are all the same. Gray then uses this as an allegory for life itself: if we are all the same in this final event, than perhaps we are more a product of events as we are ourselves. The woman next to us might be “Some mute inglorious Milton” and Milton himself might have lived an uneventful life if born in different circumstances.

In my intro I mentioned some people who quoted Gray’s Elegy, including Lincoln; in fact, there are many phrases you might recognize still today. An astounding three-quarters (well, nearly) of its lines (128!) have made it in the Oxford book of Quotations.

The true power of the poem, even for Lincoln when he quoted the work, is that we recognize its phrases through their power to console us. Yes, it laments someone’s passing, but in a way that affirms the life that preceded it, and it paints a glorious picture that lifts it from its seeming mediocrity and talks in terms that give meaning and a sense of solidarity. Even a bleak sentence such as “The Short and simple annals of the poor” shone in meaning to Lincoln, because it was an accurate description, and the idea of this seemingly deplorable life of the poor was connected in a carefully constructed web of meaning with Milton and Cromwell and all that is good and strong in human kind, without turning away from mankind’s darker side. The latter would have made the poem slip in a false romanticism, a dreamers lie, and the poem might have seem apologist. But Gray somehow encompasses the full spectrum of human existence.

The poem takes the side of the unremarkable, and therefore takes the side of everything that is unremarkable within us (human kind is vain, and cannot identify with art unless it sees himself reflected in it – this is when it develops meaning). The poem mourns our lost potential and takes our most desperate times in a loving embrace. It depicts a fellow who died after decade of anonymous labor, without the seed of education ever been planted within him, scarcely remembered in this world and unknown to any future humanity. With him is buried all his potential, unrealized – yet, Gray says, his life had many joys and by far fewer ill effects on others, unstained by the blood that often covers the spear of change, carried by the rich, the powerful, the famous, the Cromwell’s of this world. In the end, Gray values smaller things, the things that bond us, like friendship, which in its last act is confirmed in mourning, being cried for by someone else who cared for you. “On some fond breast the parting soul relies, / Some pious drops the closing eye requires”. Gray’s phrasing remains remarkably restrained and universal.

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