AN
ELEGY
WRITTEN
AMONG
THE
RUINS
OF
AN
ABBEY
.
BY
MR.
JERNINGHAM
.
WHERE
sighs
the
zephyr
to
you
lonely
tree
,
A
solemn
grove
its
leafy
mantle
spread
:
Where
bend
you
mouldering
turrets
o'er
the
sea
,
A
venerable
dome
once
rear'd
its
head
.
The
solemn
grove
,
the
venerable
dome
,
Were
erst
frequented
by
a
numerous
train
,
Ev'n
chaste
as
they
who
Dian's
mountain
roam
,
But
not
subjected
to
her
gentle
reign
:
Far
other
Goddess
did
this
train
obey
,
Far
other
temples
,
other
altars
rais'd
,
Far
other
meaning
breath'd
their
choral
lay
,
Far
other
incense
on
their
altars
blaz'd
:
Veil'd
Superstition
wak'd
her
magic
sound
,
Bad
Albion's
sons
sorsake
the
splendid
court
,
Forsake
Amusement's
variegated
round
,
And
to
her
sable
standard
here
resort
:
Alas
!
obsequious
to
her
stern
command
,
A
sullen-pensive
brotherhood
they
came
,
Refus'd
to
trace
the
paths
by
Nature
plann'd
,
And
raz'd
from
Glory's
page
their
ancient
name
.
Nor
these
alone
were
found
incloister'd
here
,
Here
also
dwelt
the
simple-minded
swain
,
Who
,
wrapt
in
sloth
,
dream'd
out
the
lazy
year
,
While
Industry
sat
weeping
on
the
plain
!
The
many
temples
rising
fair
to
view
,
Which
towering
Superstition
call'd
her
own
,
With
hand
unerring
radiant
Truth
o'erthrew
,
And
snatch'd
th'
impostor
from
her
tinsell'd
throne
.
On
yon
dust-levell'd
spire
the
crafty
maid
,
With
indignation
brooding
in
her
breast
,
Sits
gloomily
.
—
Her
votaries
all
are
fled
,
Her
lamps
extinguish'd
,
and
her
rites
suppress'd
:
Within
her
hand
a
vacant
string
she
holds
,
That
once
connected
many
a
hallow'd
bead
:
The
blotted
scroll
the
other
hand
unfolds
,
Contain'd
the
maxims
of
her
slighted
creed
.
Couch'd
at
her
feet
,
behold
a
mouldering
shrine
,
(
Of
various
relics
once
the
dread
abode
)
Where
runs
the
spider
o'er
his
treacherous
line
,
Where
lurks
the
beetle
,
and
the
loathso
me
toad
:
On
Darkness'
wing
now
sails
the
midnight
hour
,
When
for
the
grateful
sound
of
choral
prayer
,
The
shrieking
owl
from
you
disparted
tower
,
With
notes
of
horror
wakes
her
trembling
ear
.
Of
human
grandeur
mark
the
fleeting
day
,
How
frail
each
purpose
,
and
each
wish
how
vain
!
The
strong-built
domes
,
the
cloister'd
fanes
decay
,
And
ruin
hovers
round
the
desert
scene
.
The
path
that
leads
to
yonder
shatter'd
pile
Is
now
perplex'd
with
many
a
sordid
brier
:
No
crowd
is
seen
within
the
sacred
isle
,
The
Sabbath
mourns
its
long-deserted
choir
.
The
golden
crozier
blended
with
the
dust
In
horrid
folds
the
serpent
clasps
around
:
The
powerful
image
,
and
the
sainted
bust
,
Desam'd
,
unhallow'd
,
press
the
weedy
ground
.
Not
distant
far
,
her
gold
encircled
tower
Th'
inviolable
dame
majestic
rear'd
,
On
whose
dread
altar
breath'd
some
hidden
power
,
By
Terror
guarded
,
and
by
kings
rever'd
:
To
which
asylum
ev'n
th'
assassin
came
,
(
His
hand
audacious
still
imbru'd
with
gore
)
The
boon
of
full
impunity
to
claim
,
While
feeble
Justice
wept
her
baffled
lore
.
So
Truth
at
once
dissolv'd
the
mental
chain
,
And
banish'd
Error
from
th'
enlighten'd
shore
;
So
clos'd
at
length
the
busy-acted
scene
,
The
curtain
dropp'd
,
and
Folly's
mask
was
o'er
.
The
gladsome
Ceres
rais'd
her
drooping
head
,
(
While
yellow
harvests
gilt
the
smiling
plain
)
Beheld
a
youthful
band
around
her
spread
,
With
sickles
arm'd
to
reap
the
bearded
grain
.
The
warrior
then
beneath
the
trailing
vest
,
The
peaceful
cessock
,
or
the
drowsy
cowl
,
No
longer
quench'd
the
flame
within
his
breast
,
Or
lull'd
the
purpose
of
his
daring
soul
:
But
rush'd
undaunted
to
the
doubtful
war
,
Pursu'd
where
Glory
led
the
radiant
way
,
Till
Neptune
rising
on
his
coral
car
,
Resign'd
his
watry
world
to
Britain's
sway
.
The
virgin
fair
by
venal
guardians
doom'd
,
By
error
prompted
,
or
subdu'd
by
force
,
No
more
in
cloisters
drear
their
days
consum'd
:
Like
flow'rets
strew'd
around
the
senseless
corse
.
Triumphant
Hymen
hail'd
the
blissful
hour
,
And
saw
a
white-rob'd
social
train
approach
,
For
whom
the
Pleasures
dress'd
the
happy
bower
,
And
scatter'd
roses
o'er
the
destin'd
couch
.
Still
other
blessings
from
this
change
appear'd
;
No
injur'd
family
did
then
behold
On
loitering
monks
its
native
wealth
conferr'd
,
Nor
spacious
altars
cover'd
with
its
gold
.
Full
many
trod
that
crooked
path
to
Fame
,
Yet
from
her
hand
receiv'd
no
lasting
meed
,
She
from
her
annals
rends
their
fading
name
,
And
gives
to
Infamy
the
worthless
deed
:
But
Vengeance
some
pursu'd
with
dire
disgrace
,
Pursu'd
beyond
the
circle
of
its
sphere
,
Even
to
the
cementery's
dark
recess
,
Nor
spar'd
them
sleeping
on
the
peaceful
bier
.
Beside
the
spreading
of
that
sombrous
yew
,
Where
yawns
with
hideous
chasm
the
vaulted
cave
,
Presenting
to
the
fix'd
astonish'd
view
The
profanation
of
a
rifled
grave
:
The
large-endowing
Rufus
lay
inurn'd
,
With
many
a
sculputur'd
image
on
his
shrine
,
That
smit
with
sorrow
o'er
his
ashes
mourn'd
,
The
Sister-Graces
,
and
the
tuneful
Nine
.
Imprinted
on
Tradition's
storied
leaf
Is
found
(
to
this
sepulchral
spot
confin'd
)
A
terror-breathing
tale
that
wins
belief
,
And
oft
repeated
by
the
neighb'ring
hind
!
From
where
yon
mountain
shades
the
dreary
plain
,
Attracted
by
the
scent
of
human
blood
,
A
troop
of
wolves
voracious
scour'd
amain
,
And
at
this
charnel-vault
requir'd
their
food
.
When
,
horrid
to
relate
!
they
burst
the
tomb
,
And
swift
descending
to
the
deepest
shade
,
Up-tore
the
shrowded
tenant
from
its
womb
,
And
o'er
the
mangled
corse
relentless
prey'd
.
The
paly
stars
with
dim
reluctant
light
,
Like
tapers
glimmer'd
on
their
orgies
foul
,
While
gliding
spectres
scream'd
with
wild
affright
,
Re-echo'd
loud
by
their
tremendous
howl
!
Ah
!
what
avail'd
the
solemn-moving
hearse
?
The
sable
mantled
cars
,
the
funeral
throng
?
Grav'd
on
his
monument
the
soothing
verse
?
The
priests
,
the
torches
,
and
the
choral
song
?
Misjudging
wretch
!
while
thou
with
hand
profuse
Thy
treasures
on
this
mansion
didst
entail
,
And
pour
down
riches
on
the
vow'd
recluse
,
Thine
orphan
babes
partook
a
scanty
meal
.
Thy
widow'd
fair
,
her
cheek
bedew'd
with
tears
,
Approach'd
with
suppliant
knee
the
cloister-gate
,
There
ost
disclos'd
in
vain
her
poignant
cares
,
Returning
still
to
weep
her
hapless
fate
.