The Grave
A poem by Robert Blair. Thirteen illustrations. Twelve etchings by L. Schiavonetti from the drawings of William Blake & one portrait of the artist. At the end of the book there is a linked variation of the poem using illustrations in an alternate order. An important work to the Royal Academy. The “List of Subscribers”, hundreds of personal names, is omitted. Printed in 1903, based on the 1808 edition. Includes a brief poem to the Queen by Wm. Blake.
“Death's shafts fly thick. Here falls the village swain,
And there his pamper’d lord! The cup goes round,
And who so artful as to put it by?
’Tis long since death had the majority,
Yet, strange, the living lay it not to heart!
See yonder maker of the dead man’s bed,
The sexton, hoary-headed chronicle!
Of hard unmeaning face, down which ne’er stole
A gentle tear; with mattock in his hand
Digs through whole rows of kindred and acquaintance,
By far his juniors! Scarce a scull's cast up
But well he knew its owner, and can tell
Some passage of his life. Thus hand in hand
The sot has walk’d with Death twice twenty years;
And yet ne’er younker on the green laughs louder,
Or clubs a smuttier tale: when drunkards meet,
None sings a merrier catch, or lends a hand
More willing to his cup. Poor wretch! he minds not
That soon some trusty brother of the trade
Shall do for him what he has done for thousands.”
And there his pamper’d lord! The cup goes round,
And who so artful as to put it by?
’Tis long since death had the majority,
Yet, strange, the living lay it not to heart!
See yonder maker of the dead man’s bed,
The sexton, hoary-headed chronicle!
Of hard unmeaning face, down which ne’er stole
A gentle tear; with mattock in his hand
Digs through whole rows of kindred and acquaintance,
By far his juniors! Scarce a scull's cast up
But well he knew its owner, and can tell
Some passage of his life. Thus hand in hand
The sot has walk’d with Death twice twenty years;
And yet ne’er younker on the green laughs louder,
Or clubs a smuttier tale: when drunkards meet,
None sings a merrier catch, or lends a hand
More willing to his cup. Poor wretch! he minds not
That soon some trusty brother of the trade
Shall do for him what he has done for thousands.”