ELEGY II. ON AGE. Thomas Holcroft Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T107178 K086061.000 Holcroft, Thomas, 1745-1809. Elegies: I. On the death of Samuel Foote, Esq. II. On age. By Thomas Holcroft, ... London printed for J. Bew 1777 pp. []-24. 24p.; 4⁰.

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ELEGY II . ON AGE .
ADVERTISEMENT .

THERE is not any Thing , I believe , which calls forth the melancholy and sympathetic Passions more forcibly than a Sight of those Men who have once been great or famous , and have outlived their For tune or Faculties . Who can forbear sighing when he beholds a BELISARIUS ? Whose Heart is not wrung when he views a SWIFT in his Dotage ? — Reflections of this Kind gave Birth to the following Stanzas . They were written upon an old Man in a Coun try-Village , whose Strength , Activity , and rustic Ac complishments , were once the frequent Admiration of his Fellow-Swains ; and when Age had deprived him of them , and rendered him feeble and decrepid , the Remembrance of his past Exploits was often the Subject of their Exclamations , and the honest Motive of their Pity and Condolence , as well as the frequent Topic of his own Lamentation . The Effect that this Remembrance had upon his Mind cannot , perhaps , be conveyed more feelingly than by informing the Reader that the Sentence which I have chosen for a Motto was common in his Mouth , and generally attended with a Sigh .

ELEGY . There is a Time to be born , and a Time to die . I. I ONCE was young , alack the Day ! And Mirth and Jollity my Theme ; Now fourscore Summers , flown away , Appear a half-forgotten Dream . II . I once could dance , who nimbler seen When May-Day Garlands deck'd the Pole ? Or , Prize propos'd to glide the Green , Who sooner reach'd the distant Goal ? III . How slow and feeble now my Tread ! Those Feet which erst have won the Prize Are only swift to reach the Bed Where , undistinguish'd , Merit lies . IV . This Arm athletic once could raise The massy Beam , the pond'rous Stone ; Loud echo'd forth the Village Praise When I the whirling Quoit have thrown . V. Behold it wither'd , now , and weak , Its brawny Texture quite forgot ; Its languid Pulse , slow winding , seek The Mansion where to rest and rot ! VI . When I into the Circle sprung , What hardy Youth durst e'er engage ? Who but would check his daring Tongue , If , much provok'd , he saw my Rage ? VII . Where's now the Terror of my Eye ? What Coward quakes tho' I should frown ? When agile Feats they yearly try , Who brings to me the festive Crown ? VIII . My auburn Ringlets , once so gay , Could win the Sigh , the wishing Glance ; And envied went that Lass away Who join'd me in the rustic Dance . IX . My bald Head , sprinkled o'er with grey , Wins nothing but predictive Tears , Reminding Man , from Day to Day , Th'Effects of much-desired Years . X. I once could sing , what Voice so sweet Could charm an inattentive Ear ? Or move the merry-making Feet , Or melt the sighing Virgin's Tear ? XI . Who now delights to hear my Voice ? Who now shall press the cheerly Song ? Who now shall listen ? who rejoice ? Or give the Praise they gave me young ? XII . Alas ! what Voice hath drooping Age To charm the sprightly Ear of Youth ? His Eye delights not in the Sage , His Heart delights not in the Truth . FINIS .