——:o:——
Elegy.
Written in Bartlemy Fair at five o’clock in the morning.
The clock bell tolls the hour of early day,
The lowing herd their Smithfield penance drie,
The watchman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the fair—all solitude to me!
Now the first beams of morning glad the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds;
Save when the sheep dog bays with hoarse affright,