For thee, who, mindful of the unhonoured dead, Dost in these lines their artless tales relate; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, 95 Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, ‘Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn, Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 100 ‘There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. ‘Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, 105 Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove; Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn, Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love. ‘One morn, I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; 110 Another came, nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; ‘The next with dirges due in sad array, Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne: Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, 115 Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.’ THE EPITAPH. Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A Youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown: Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, And Melancholy marked him for her own. 120 Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere; Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to misery all he had, a tear; He gained from Heaven, ’twas all he wished, a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, 125 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose;) The bosom of his Father and his God. _Thomas Gray._ CLXIX _WRESTLING JACOB._ Come, O Thou traveller unknown, Whom still I hold, but cannot see, My company before is gone, And I am left alone with Thee; With Thee all night I mean to stay, 5 And wrestle till the break of day. I need not tell Thee who I am, My misery or sin declare; Thyself hast called me by my name; Look on thy hands, and read it there! 10 But who, I ask Thee, who art Thou? Tell me thy Name, and tell me now. In vain Thou strugglest to get free, I never will unloose my hold; Art Thou the Man that died for me? 15 The secret of thy love untold. Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, Till I thy Name, thy nature know.