Thomas Gray

Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.

Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.

Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast,
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious read more

Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast,
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.

Hard Unkindness' alter'd eye,
That mocks the tear if forced to flow.

Hard Unkindness' alter'd eye,
That mocks the tear if forced to flow.

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
Ye unborn ages, crown not on my soul.

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
Ye unborn ages, crown not on my soul.

While bright-eyed science watches round.

While bright-eyed science watches round.