CARMEN ELEGIACUM, In CIMAETERIO RUSTICO compositum

Audistin! quam lenta sonans campana per agros, Aerato occiduam nuntiat ore diem. Armenta impellunt crebris mugitibus auras, Lassatusque domum rusticus urget iter. Solus ego in tenebris moror, & vestigia solus Compono tacitâ nocte, vacoque mihi.

Omnia pallescunt jam decedentia visu, Et terra & coelum, qua patet, omne silet. Cuncta silent, nisi musca suam sub vespere sero Raucisonans pigram qua rotat orbe fugam; Cuncta silent, nisi qua faciles campanula somnos Allicit, & lento murmure mulcet oves.

Quàque hedera antiquas sociâ complectitur umbrâ Turres, feralis lugubre cantat avis; Et strepit ad lunam, si quis sub nocte vagetur Imperium violans, Cynthia Diva, tuum.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the ecchoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their fire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!