behold a blessed vision, and his voice is strengthened thus to sing--

"On the pale cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,
And Beauty immortal awakes from the tomb."

Nevertheless, had Gray been known, not for his scholarship, not for
his taste, not for his letters and minor poems, not for his reputed
powers and unrivalled accomplishments, but solely for this elegy--had
only it and his mere name survived, it alone would have entitled him
to rank with Britain's best poets.

* * * * *


GRAY'S POEMS.

ODES.

I.--ON THE SPRING.

1. Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours,
Fair Venus' train, appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year!
The Attic warbler pours her throat
Responsive to the cuckoo's note,
The untaught harmony of Spring:
While, whispering pleasure as they fly,
Cool Zephyrs through the clear blue sky
Their gather'd fragrance fling.