Thomas Gray (1) (1716–1771)

I far preferred Gray's work to that of Collins. The latter's Eclogues were fine, but much of the rest of his poetry left me cold. I think it may be that he made many references to issues and people topical for him, of which I have neither knowledge nor interest. Gray, however, deals with more universal, timeless themes, which remain relevant despite the stretch of time since he wrote. I suppose it is no accident that Gray is the more remembered.

Reprint of what may once have been one of the most familiar poems in English from the 18th century. At a time when few could read in England, one of its most educated sons, and the companion of Horace Walpole during their youthful extended two and a half year "tour" of the Continent, Thomas Gray wrote a poem about seeing the headstone of a ploughman in an unfamiliar churchyard.

The poem is a meditation on human life, with its inevitable termination. Death is the leveler; it draws no show more distinctions, and indeed it absolutely removes all of them. In this reflection on stone, Gray's eyes settle on the Elegy of a humble rustic and how he wished to be remembered. The stone records, "He gave to misery all he had, a tear, / He gained from Heaven, 'twas all he wished, a friend."

So, we share a poem by one of the most educated men of 18th century Europe, gently igniting reflection about destiny and death, putting the play of assonance and alliteration to majestic use. The poem radically spreads actual majesty and grace to the lowly folk who never achieve fame and fortune. The poem gives full expression to humanitarian reality.

This throws posturing and the imbecility of empty pomp and pointless pretensions to power into stark relief. His treatment of the commoner was heroic and prescient -- twenty years after Gray's death in 1771, the French Revolution created the most robust middle class in the world with the freeing of the Serfs and land distribution. France became the most educated and most prosperous nation in the world. Sadly, recidivist tyrants subsidized a political takeover of the republic of France by a militarist "populist" thug. Napoleon was an out-of-control puppet who got millions of people killed.

But there was that ignition of consciousness. We owe much to Gray, his "friends", and his scholarship--the yearning for learning. And we are much cautioned by the vicious greed of a few wealthy puppet-masters who fancy they can control an armed puppet. show less

I can remember my mother reciting Elegy written in a country church-yard - not all of it though. This poem seemed to mean a lot to her. She never reached the line: 'The path of glory leads but to the grave'.

In the character of his Elegy I rejoice to concur with the common reader; for by the common sense of readers uncorrupted with literary prejudices, after all the refinements of subtilty and the dogmatism of learning, must be finally decided all claim to poetical honours. The Church-yard abounds with images which find a mirrour in every mind, and with sentiments to which every bosom returns an echo. The four stanzas beginning "Yet even these bones" are to me original: I have never seen the show more notions in any other place; yet he that reads them here persuades himself that he has always felt them. Had Gray written often thus it had been vain to blame, and useless to praise him.

from Lives of the Poets show less