And sober matrons marvel at their pride.
But William, head erect, with settled brow,
In sullen silence view'd the passing shew;
And oft' he scratch'd his pate with manful grace,
And scorn'd to pull the bonnet o'er his face;
But did with steady look unmoved wait,
Till hindmost man had turn'd the church-yard gate;
Then turn'd him to his cot with visage flat,
Where honest Tray upon the threshold sat.
Up jump'd the kindly beast his hand to lick,
And, for his pains, receiv'd an angry kick.
Loud shuts the flapping door with thund'ring din;
The echoes round their circling course begin,
From cot to cot, in wide progressive swell,
Deep groans the church-yard wall and neighb'ring dell,
And Tray, responsive, joins with long and piteous yell.



A LAMENTATION.

Where ancient broken wall encloses round,
From tread of lawless feet, the hallow'd ground,
And somber yews their dewy branches wave
O'er many a motey stone and mounded grave:
Where parish church, confus'dly to the sight,
With deeper darkness prints the shades of night,
And mould'ring tombs uncouthly gape around,
And rails and fallen stones bestrew the ground:
In loosen'd garb derang'd, with scatter'd hair,