《墓园挽歌》是英国18世纪伟大诗人托马斯·格雷（Thomas Gray）的一首著名诗歌，也称为《Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard》。以下是该诗的原文及译文：
原文
The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea: The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds; Only with night's first gloom do I find ease From day's long toil, my penance never done; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The proud man's contumely, the pangs of despised love, The law's delay, and the insolence of office, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under this weary life, But that the dread of something after death— The undiscovered country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus Conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action. Soft you now The fair Ophelia! — Nymph of this forest green, In whose sweet shade I have so often seen The rural dances, and the sports of youth, Delighted to draw thy gentle breath, Now thou art gone, and I must bear alone The burden of all these griefs, which thou didst share; But couldst not bear, when fate was kind to thee, And bore but half so much as thou hadst borne. Thou, gentle spright, that didst guide the plough, Now leads it not; thou that didst sing at eve Beneath the hedge-row, sitting on the mower's seat, Now silent; thou that didst through fields and meadows Lead the dairy-maids to morning milkings, Now here thou lies, and none, save I, to mourn. Oh, lift me from this bed of languor, And by some gentle hand lead me to rest Among the numberless dead that sleep around; For neither joy, nor reverence, nor love, Nor duty bids me linger longer here; Some natural tears they never shed, but die As cattle do, with no unhappy lot; Their souls are swift into another state, Perchance to hover round the seats of grace. Weep not for me, but weep afar, dear friend, Beyond the ocean, if indeed it be That good men yield their spirits to the skies, Or into empty void, or to some flowery bed, Of quiet rest, and there their friends may visit Though few have courage for the dreadful leap, Yet many wish to view, if once they might, The deep romantic cave, to which each soul is bound, Its own particular cell, for evermore. Good people all, whom chance doth guide to these Sacred remains, give years and tears to grace This stone, and let the moss-grown beadle write, With trembling hand, "Here rests, beneath the sod, A heart whose love was innocent, whose life was pure, An Angel visited earth to show us how Men ought to live."译文
黄昏的钟声悠悠敲响， 漫野的牛羊缓缓归庄； 疲惫的农夫结束了一天的劳作， 将世界留给了黑暗与我徜徉。
眼前的景色渐渐黯淡无光， 四周的空气弥漫着庄严与安详， 只有那甲虫嗡嗡作响振翅飞翔， 还有那远处羊圈的催眠曲轻轻荡漾；
只有在夜幕初降时我方得解脱， 从白日的辛劳中寻得片刻欢畅； 谁愿忍受时间无情的鞭挞和讥讽， 权贵们的傲慢、失恋的悲恸、 法律的拖延以及官场的骄横？ 他本可以轻易地用一根针结束生命， 又有谁愿意背负着重担前行， 在这艰辛的生活中呻吟流汗， 若非对死后未知的恐惧缠绕心头—— 那片无人返回的神秘之地， 让人犹豫不决，顾虑重重， 宁愿承受现有的苦难， 也不愿去逃避那些未知的苦楚。 如此这般，良知让我们变得懦弱； 于是，坚定的本色被忧虑笼罩， 宏图大志也因此扭曲变形， 偏离了原本的航道， 失去了行动的意义。温柔的奥菲莉亚啊！ 你这森林中的仙女， 我曾多次在你的绿荫下看见， 乡村的舞蹈和青春的嬉戏， 陶醉于你轻柔的气息； 如今你已离去，我必须独自承担， 这些曾与你一同承受的悲伤； 但你无法承受命运对你的恩赐， 你所承受的还不及我的一半。
温柔的灵魂啊，你曾驾驭着犁铧， 现在却不再引领它；你曾在黄昏时分歌唱， 坐在割草人的座位上，倚靠在篱笆旁， 现在你沉默了；你曾在田野和草地上， 带领挤奶女走向清晨的牧场， 现在你躺在这里，除了我无人哀伤。
哦，请把我从这倦怠之床扶起， 用你那温柔的手引导我安息， 在这无数长眠者环绕的地方； 因为无论是欢乐、敬仰、爱情还是责任， 都不能让我在此地久留； 有些人从未流过自然的眼泪， 如同牲畜般死去，没有不幸的命运； 他们的灵魂迅速进入另一种状态， 或许徘徊在恩典的宝座周围。
亲爱的朋友，不要为我哭泣， 而是在远方的大海彼岸哀悼； 如果善良的人真的把灵魂交给了天空， 或是虚无，或是一片花丛， 在那里安静地休息，朋友们也可以探望； 虽然很少有人有勇气进行这可怕的跳跃， 但许多人都希望，哪怕只有一次， 能看到每个灵魂都束缚着的， 深邃而浪漫的洞穴，永恒的居所。 所有偶然来到这片神圣遗迹前的好人啊， 请用你们的岁月和泪水来增添它的荣耀， 让长满青苔的教区执事颤抖着手写下： “在这片泥土之下安息着一颗心， 它的爱是纯洁的，生活是清白的， 一位天使访问过人间，告诉我们， 人应该如何生活。”
