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At ber command the palace learnt to rise,
Thus ev'ry good his native wilds impart Again the long-fall’n column sought the skies; Imprints the patriot passion on his heart; The canvass glow'd, beyond e'en Nature warm, And e'en those hills, that round his mansion rise, The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form: Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies : Till, more unsteady than the southern gale, Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, Commerce on other shores display'd her sail; And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms; While nought remain'd of all that riches gave, And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, But towns unmano'd, and lords without a slave : Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, And late the nation found, with fruitless skill, So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, Its former strength was but plethoric ill.
But bind him to his native mountains more, Yet still the loss of wealth is here supply'l Such are the charms to barren states as. By arts, the splendid wrecks of former pride ;
sign'd: From these the feeble heart and long-fallin Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd: mind
Yet let them only share the praises due, An easy compensation seem to find.
If few their wants, their pleasures are but few; Here may be seen, in bloodless pomp array'd, Por ev'ry want that stimulates the breast The pasteboard triumph and the cavalcade: Becomes a source of pleasure when redrest : Processions form’d for piety and love,
Whence from such lands each pleasing science A mistress or a saint in ev'ry grove.
flies, By sports like these are all their cares beguild, That first excites desire and then supplies; The sports of children satisfy the child :
Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy, Each nobler aim, represt by long control, To fill the languid pause with finer joy; Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul; Unknown those pow'rs that raise the soul to While low delights, succeeding fast behind,
[frame. In happier meanness occupy the mind :
Catch ev'ry nerve, and vibrate through the As in those domes, where Cæsars once bore Their level life is but a mould'ring fire, sway,
Unquench'd by want, upfann'd by strong desire ; Defac'd by time, and tott'ring in decay, Unfit for raptures, or, if raptures cheer There in the ruin, heedless of the dead,
On some high festival of once a year, The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed; In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire, And, wond'ring man could want the larger pile, Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire. Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.
But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow; My soul, turn from them, turn we to survey
Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low; Where rougher climes a nobler race display, For, as refinement stops, from sire to son Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions Unalter'd, unimprov'd, the manners run; tread,
And love's and friendship’s finely pointed dart And force a churlish soil for scanty bread: Fall blunted from each indurated heart. No product here the barren hills afford
Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain 's breast But man and steel, the soldier and his sword : May sit, like falcons cow'ring on the nest : No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,
But all the gentler morals, such as play But winter ling’ring chills the lap of May;
Thro' life's more cultur'd walks, and charm the No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast,
way, But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest. These, far dispers’d, on tim'rous pinions fly, Yet still, e'en here, content can spread a To sport and Autter in a kinder sky. charm,
To kinder skies, where geotler manners reign, Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm. I turn; and France displays her bright domain: Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts tho'Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease, small,
Pleas'd with thyself, whom all the world can He sees his little lot the lot of all;
please, Sees no contiguous palace rear its head,
How often have I led thy sportive choir, To shame the meanness of his humble shed; With tuneless pipe, beside the murm’ring Loire ! No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal,
Where sbading elms along the margin grew, To make him loathe his vegetable meal;
And freshen'd from the wave the zephyr flew : But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, And haply, though my harsh touch, falt'ring still, Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil. But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's Cheerful at morn, he wakes from short repose,
skill; Breathes the keen air, and carols as he goes ;
Yet would the village praise my wond'rous pow'r, With patient angle trolls the finny deep,
And dance, forgetful of the noontide hour. Or drives his vent'rous ploughshare to the steep; Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the
Have led their children thro’ the mirthful inaze; way,
And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore, And drags the struggling savage into day.
Has frisk'd beneath the burthen of threescore. At night returning, ev'ry labour sped,
So blest a life these thoughtless realms display, He sits him down the monarch of a shed; Thus idly busy rolls their world away: Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys
Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear, His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;
For honour forms the social temper here : While his lov'd partner, boastful of her board, Honour, that praise which real merit gains, Displays her cleanly platter on the board : Or e'en imaginary worth obtains, And baply too some pilgrim, thither led, Here passes current ; paid from hand to hand, With many a tale repays the nightly bed, It shifts, in splendid traffic, round the land :
From courts, to camps, to cottages it strays, Fierce in their native hardiness of soul,
But while this softer art their bliss supplies, Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictur'd It gives their follies also room to rise ;
here, For praise too dearly lov'd, or warmly sought, Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear; Enfeebles all internal strength of thought; Too blest indeed were such without alloy; And the weak soul, within itself unblest,
But foster'd e'en by freedom, ills annoy; Leans for all pleasure ou another's breast. That independence Britons prize too high, Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art,
Keeps map from man, and breaks tbe social tie;. Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart; The self-dependent lordlings stand alone, Here vanity assumes her pert grimace,
All claims that bind and sweeten life unknown; And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace; Here, by the bonds of nature feebly held, Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer, Minds combat minds, repelling and repell’d; To boast one splendid banquet once a year: Ferments arise, imprison'd factions roar, The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws, Represt ambition struggles round her shore; Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause. Till over-wrought, the general system feels To men of other minds my fancy flies,
Its motions stop, or phrenzy fire the wheels. Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies.
Nor this the worst. As nature's ties decay, Methinks her patient sons before me stand, As duty, love, and honour, fail to sway, Where the broad ocean leans against the land, Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law, And, sedulous to stop the coming tide,
Still gather strength, and force unwilling awe. Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride.
Hence all obedience bows to these alone, Onward, methinks, and diligently slow,
And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown; The firm connected bulwark seems to grow ; Till time may come, when, stript of all her Spreads its long arms amidst the wat’ry roar,
charms, Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore: The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms, While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile, Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame, Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile: Where kings have toil'd, and poets wrute, for The slow canal, the yellow-blossom’d vale, One sink of level avarice shall lie, lfame, The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail,
And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour'd die. The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,
Yet think not, thus when freedom's ills I state, A new creation rescu'd from his reign.
I mean to flatter kings, or court the great : Thus, while around the wave-subjected soil Ye pow'rs of truth, that bid my soul aspire, Impels the native to repeated toil,
Far from my bosom drive the low desire ! Industrious habits in each bosom reign,
And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel And industry begets a love of gain.
The rabble's rage, and tyrant's angry steel; Hence all the good from opulence that springs, Thou transitory flow'r, alike undone With all those ills superfluous treasure brings, By proud contempt, or favour's fost'ring sun; Are here display'd. Their much-lov'd wealth Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure! imparts
I only would repress them to secure; Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts; For just experience lells, in ev'ry soil, But view them closer, craft and fraud appear, That those who think must govern those thattoil; E'en liberty itself is barter'd here.
And all that freedom's highest aims can reach At gold's superior charms all freedom flies,
Is but to lay proportion'd loads on each. The needy sell it, and the rich man buys; Hence, should one order disproportion'd grow, A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves,
Its double weight must ruin all below. Here wretches seek dishonourable graves,
Oh then how blind to all that truth requires, And, calmly bent, to servitude conform, Who think it freedom when a part aspires ! Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm. Calın is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms,
Heav'ns ! how unlike their Belgic sires of old ! Except when fast approaching danger warms: Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold; But when contending chiefs blockade the throne, War in each breast, and freedom on each brow; Contracting regal pow'r to stretch their own; How much unlike the sons of Britain now! When I behold a factious band agree
Fir'd at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, To call it freedom when themselves are free; And fies where Britain courts the western spring; Each wanton judge new penal statutes dras, Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride, Laws grind the poor, and rich meu rule the law; And brighter streams than fam'd Hydaspis glide; The wealth of climes, where savage nations There all around the gentlest breezes stray,
roam, There gentle music melts on every spray; Pillag'd from slaves to purchase slaves at home; Creation's mildest charms are there combin'd, Fear, pity, justice, indignation, start, Extremes are only in the master's mind; Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart; Stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state, Till half a patriot, half a coward grown, With daring aims irregularly great :
I fly from petty tyrants to the throne. Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
Yes, brother, curse with me that balcful hour, I see the lords of human kind pass by ;
When first ambition struck at regal pow'r; Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, And thus, polluting honour in its source, By forms unfashion'd, fresh from Nature's hand, Gave wealth to sway the mind with double force.
Have we not seen, round Britain's peopled shore, you will object (and indeed several of our best Her useful sons exchang'd for useless ore? and wisest friends concur in the opinion) that the Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste, depopulation it deplores is no where to be seen, Like flaring tapers bright’ning as they waste; and the disorders it laments are only to be found Seen opulence, her grandeur to maintain, in the poet's own imagination. To this I can scarce Lead stern depopulation in her train,
make any other answer, than that I sincerely beAnd over fields where scatter'd hamlets rose, lieve what I-have written; that I have taken all In barren solitary pomp repose?
possible pains in my country excursions, for these Have we not seen, at pleasure's lordly call, four or five years past, to be certain of what I al'The smiling long-frequented village fall? ledge; and that all my views and inquiries have
3 Beheld the duteous son, the sire decay'd, led me to believe those miseries real, which I The modest matron, and the blashing maid, here attempt to display. But this is not the Forc'd from their homes, a melancholy train, place to enter into an inquiry, whether the To traverse climes beyond the western main; country be depopulating or not; the discussion Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around, would take up much room, and I should prove And Niagara stuns with thund'ring sound? myself, at best, an indifferent politician, to tire E'en now, perhaps, as there some pilgrim the reader with a long preface, when I want his strays
unfatigued attention to a long poem. Thro' tangled forests, and thro' dang’rous ways; In regretting the depopulation of the country, Where beasts with man divided empire claim, I inveigh against the increase of our laxuries; And the brown Indian marks with murd'rous aim; and here also I expect the shout of modern poliThere, while above the giddy tempest flies,. ticians against me. For twenty or thirty years And all round distressful yells arise,
past it has been the fashion to consider luxury The pensive exile, bending with his woe, as one of the greatest national advantages; and To stop too fearful, and too faint to go,
all the wisdom of antiquity, in that particular, Casts a long look where England's glories shine, as erroneous. Still, however, I mast remain a And bids his bosom sympathize with mine. professed ancient on that head, and continue to
Vain, very vain, my weary search to find think those luxuries prejadicial to statës, by That bliss which only centres in the mind. which so many. vices are introduced, and so Why have I stray'd from pleasure and repose, many kingdoms have been undcne. Indeed so To seek a good each government bestows? much has been poured out of late on the other In ev'ry government, though terrours reign, side of the question, that, merely
for the sake of Though tyrant kings or tyrant laws restrain, novelty and variety, one would sometimes wish How small, of all that human hearts endure, to be in the right. That part which laws or kings can cause or core !
I am, dear sir, Still to ourselves in ev'ry place consign'd,
your sincere friend, Our own felicity we make or find :
and ardent admirer, With secret course, which no loud storms annoy,
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. The lifted axe, the agonizing wheel, Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel, To men remote from pow'r but rarely known,
Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, Leave reason, faith, and conscience, all our own. Where health and plenty cheer'd the lab'ring
And parting Summer's ling’ring blooms delay'd :
Seats of my youth, when ev'ry sport could FIRST PRINTED IN 1769.
How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green,
Where humble happiness endear'd each scene !
How often have I paus'd on ev'ry charm, DEAR SIR,
The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm, I can have no expectations in an address of this The never-failing brook, the busy mill, kind, either to add to your reputation, or to es- The decent church that topt the neighb'ring tablish my own. You can gain nothing from my
(shade, admiration, as I am ignorant of that art in which the hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the you are said to excel; and I may lose much by For talking age and whisp’ring lovers made ! the severity of your judgment, as few have a How often have I bless'd the coming day, juster taste in poetry than you. Setting inter- When toil remitting lent its turn to play, est therefore aside, to which I never paid much And all the village train, from fabour free, attention, I must be indulged at present in fol. Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree: lowing my affections. The only dedication ! Whie many a pastime circled in the shade, ever made was to my brother, because I loved The young contending as the old survey'd him better than most other men. He is since And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground, dead. Permit me to inscribe this poem to you. And slights of art and feats of strength went How far you may be pleased with the versifi
round; cation and mere mechanical parts of this at- | And still, as each repeated pleasure tir'd, tempt, I do not pretend to inquire: But I kuow Succeeding sports the mirthful band jaspir'd
The dancing pair that simply sought renown, To husband out life's taper at the close,
And keep the flame from wasting, by repose : The swain
mistrustless of his smutted face, I still had bopes, for pride attends us still, While secret laughter titter'd round the place; Amidst the swains to show my book-learn'd skill, The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love, Around my fire an ev'ning group to draw, The matron's glance that would those looks re- And tell of all I felt, and all I saw; prove:
[like these, And, as a hare, whom bounds and hords pursue, These were thy charms, sweet village ! sports Pants to the place from whence at first sbe fles With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please; I still had hopes, my long vexations past, These round thy bow'rs their cheerful influence Here to return—and die at home at last. shed,
O blest retirement, friend to life's decline, These were thy charms—but all these charms are Retreats from care, that never must be mine, fied.
How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these, Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, A youth of labour with an age of ease; Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms with. Who quits a world where strong temptations try, drawn;
And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to ig! Amidst thy bow'rs the tyrant's hand is seen, For him no wretches, born to work and weep, And desolation saddens all thy green:
Explore the mine, or tempt the dang'rous deep; One only master grasps the whole domain, No surly porter stands, in guilty state, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain : To spurn imploring famine from the gate ; No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, But on he moves to meet his latter end, But chok'd with sedges works its weary way; Angels around befriending virtue's friend; Along thy glades, a solitary guest,
Sinks to the grave with unperceiv'd decay, The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; While resignation gently slopes the way; Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing Bies, And, all his prospects bright’ning to the last, And tires their echoes with unvary'd cries. His hear'n commences ere the world be past. Sunk are thy bow'rs in shapeless ruin all,
Sweet was the sound, when oft at ev'ning's And the long grass o'ertops the mould'ring wall;
close, And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's Up yonder hill the village murmur rose; hand,
There, as I pass'd with careless steps and slor, Far, far away thy children leave the land. The mingling notes came soften’d from below;
nii fares the land, to hast’ning ills a prey, The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay; The sober herd that low'd to meet their young; Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, A breath can make them, as a breath has made: The playful children just let loose from school; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, The watch dog's voice that bay'd the whisp'ring When once destroyed, can never be supply'd.
wind, A time there was, ere England's griefs began, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind; When ev'ry rood of ground maintain’d its man; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, For him light labour spread her wholesome store, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made. Just gave what life requir’d, but gave no more: But now the sounds of population fail, His best companions, innocence and health ; No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,
But times are alter'd; trade's unfeeling train But all the blooming flush of life is filed : Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain ; All but yon widow'd, solitary thing, Along the lawn, where scatter'd hamlets rose, That feebly bends beside the plashy spring; Ünwieldy wealth and cumb'rous pomp repose ; She, wretched matron, forc'd in age, for bread, And ev'ry want to luxury ally'd,
To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread, And ev'ry pang that folly pays to pride.
To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn, Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn: Those calm desires that ask'd but little room, She only left of all the harmless train, Those healthful sports that grac'd the peaceful The sad historian of the pensive plain. scene,
Near yonder copse, where once the garden Livd in cach look, and brighten'd all the green;
smild, These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, And still where many a garden flow'r grows wild, And rural mirth and manners are no more. There, where a few tor shrubs the place disclose,
Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's pow'r. A man he was to all the country dear, Here, as I take my solitary rounds,
And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Amidst thy tangling walks and ruin'd grounds, Remote from towns he ran his godly race, And, many a year elaps'd, return to view Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change, his Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for pow'r, (place; grew,
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour; Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Par other aims his heart had learn'd to prize, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
In all my wand'rings round this world of care, His house was known to all the vagrant train, In all my griefs—and God has giv’n my share- He chid their wand'rings, but reliev'd their pain; I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, The long-reinember'd beggar was his guest, Amidst these humble bow'rs to lay me down; Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;
Theruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, But past is all his fame. The very spot,
Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away ; Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, Wept o'er bis wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields
inspir'd, were won.
[glow, where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retir'd, Pleas'd with his griests, the good man learn'd to Where village statesmen talk'd with looks proAnd quite forgot their vices in their woe;
found, Careless their merits or their faults to scan, And news much older than their ale went round; His pity gave ere charity began.
Imagination fondly stoops to trace Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, The parlour splendours of that festire place; And ev'n his failings leap'd to virtue's side ; The white-wash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, But in his duty prompt, at ev'ry call,
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door ; He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt, for all: The chest contriv'd a double debt toʻpay, And, as a bird each fond endearment tries A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; To tempt its new-fledg'd offspring to the skies, The pictures plac'd for ornament and use, He try'd each art, repror'd each dull delay, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose; Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way. The hearth, except when winter chill'd the day,
Beside the bed where parting life was laid, With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel,gay; And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd, While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, The rev'rend champion stood. At bis control, Rang'd o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row. Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; Vain transitory splendours ! could not all Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, Reprieve the tott'ring mansion from its fall! And his last fault'ring accents whisper'd praise. Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart
At church, with meek and unaffected grace, An hour's importance to the poor man's heart; His looks adorn'd the venerable place;
Thither no more the peasant shall repair Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, To sweet oblivion of his daily care; And fools, who came to scoff, remain’d to pray. No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, The service past, around the pious man,
No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail ; With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran: No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Er'n children follow'd, with endearing wile, Relax his pond'rous strength, and lean to hear; And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's | The host himself no longer shall be found
Careful to see the mantling bliss go round; His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest, Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest, Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares dis- Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. trest :
Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were giv'n, These simple blessings of the lowly train ; But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heav'n. To me more dear, congenial to my heart, As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, One native charm, than all the gloss of art; Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play, storm,
(spread, The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway; Tho' round its breast the rolling clouds are Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Unenvy'd, unmolested, unconfin'd. Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, With blossom'd furze, uoprofitably gay, With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd, There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, The village master taught his little school : The toiling pleasure sickens into paiu; A man severe he was, and stern to view,
And, e'en while fasbion's brightest arts decoy, I knew him well, and every truant knew; The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy? Well had the boding tremblers learn’d to trace Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey The day's disasters in bis morning face ; The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee 'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand At all his jokes, for many a joke had he; Between a splendid and a happy land, Full well the busy whisper, circling round, Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd; And shouting Folly hails them from her shore ; Yet he was kind, or if severe in anght,
Hoards e'en beyond the miser's wish abound, The love he bore to learning was in fault;
And rich men flock from all the world around. The village all declar'd how much he knew; Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name 'Twas certain he could write and cypher too; That leaves our useful product still the same. Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride And ev'n the story ran that he could gauge. Takes up a space that many poor supply'd ; In arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill, Space or his lake, his park's extended bounds, For ev'n though vanquish'd he could argue still; Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds; While words of learned length, and thund'ring The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth sound,
Has robb'd the neighb'ring fields of half their Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around;
growth; And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew His seat, where solitary sports are seen, That one small head should carry all he knew. Indignant spurns the cottage from the green ;