Could I trace back the time to a far distant date, Since my forefathers toild in this field: And the farm I now hold on your honours estate Is the same that my grandfather tilld. A Song, Ere around the huge oak.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-trees shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. Gray.Elegy, Verse 4.