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The hawthorn bush, with seats beneaththeshade, Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour,
For talking age and whisp'ring lovers made ! Thy glades forlorn confess'd the tyrant's pow'r.
How often have I blest the coming day, Here, as I take my solitary rounds,
When toil remitting lent its turn to play ; Amidst thy tangling walks, and ruin'd grounds;
And all the village train from labor free, And, many a year elaps’d, return to view (grew ;
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree; Where once the cottage stood, the hawthoru
While many a pastime circled in the shade, Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
The young contending as the old survey'd : Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.
And many a gombol frolick'd o'er the ground, In all my wand'rings round this world of care,
And sleits of art and feats of strength wentround. In all my grief, and God has given my share —
And still, as each repeated pleasure tird, I stiñ had hopes, my latest hours to crown,
Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspir’d Amidst these humble bow'rs 10 lay ine down;
The dancing pair that simply sought renown; To husband out life's taper at the close,
By holding out to tire each other down ; and keep the fame froin wasting my repose :
The swain, mistrustless of his smutted face, I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,
While secret laughter titter'd round the place; Amidst the swains to show my book-learn'dskill,
The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love, Around my fire, an evening group to draw,
The matron's glance that would those looks re- And tell if all I felt, and all I saw ;

[these, And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, These were thy charnis, sweet village! sports like Pants to the place from whence at first he flew, With sweet succession taughe e'en toil to pleise; I still had hojes, my long vexations past, These round thy bow’rs their cheerful influence Here to return, and die at home at last. shed,

[are fied.

O blest retirement, friend to life's decline, These were thy charnis --but all these charms Retreat from care, that never must be mine!

Sweet siniling village, loveliest of the lawn, How blest.is he, who crowns, in shades like these, Thy sports are fled, andalljthy charms withdrawn, A youth of labor with an age of ease ; Amidst thy bow'rs the tyrant's hand is seen, Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And desolation saddens all thy green :'

And, since 'ris hard to combat, learns to fly! One only master grusps the whole domain, For hiin no wretches, born to work and wcep, And half a tillage tints thy smiling plain ; Explore the mine, or tempt the dang'rous dcep; No inore thy glassy brook reflects the day, No surly porter stands in guilty state, But, chok'd with sedges, works its weedy way; To spurn imploring famine from the gate; Along thy glades, a solitary guest,

But on he moves to meet his latter end, The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; Angels around; befriending virtue's friend; Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing fies, Sinks to the grave with unperceiv'd decay, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries. While resignation gently slepes the way Sunk are thy bow'rs in shapeless ruin all, And, all his prospects bright'ning to the last, And the long grass o'ertops ulic mould'ring wall; Ilis heaven commences ere the world be past ! And treinbling, sbrinking from the spoiler's hand, Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's Far, far away thy children leave the land.

close, Ill fares the land, to hast'ning ills a prey, Up yonder bill the village muriner rose; Where wealth accumulates, and men decay : There as I pass'd, with careless steps and slow, Priuces and Lords may flourish or may fade ; The mingling notes came sosten'd from below; A breath can make them as a breath lias made : The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung, But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, The sober herd that low'd to meet their young, When once destroy’d, can never be supplied. The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,

A time there was, ere England's griets began, The playful children just let loose froni school,
When every rood of ground maintain'd its man; The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whisp'ring
For himn light labor spread her wholesome store ; wind,
Just gave what life requir’d, but gave no more : And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind;
His best coinpanions, innocence and health; These all in sweet confusion souglıt the shade,
And his best riches, ignorance of wealih. And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.

But times are alter'd: trade's unfeeling train But now the sounds of population fail,
Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain; No cheerful muriners fluctuate in the gale,
Along the lawn, were scatter'd hanılets rose, No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,
Unweildy wealth and cunıb'rous pomp repose; But all the bloony fiush of life is fled":
And ev'ry want to luxnry allied,

All but yon widow'd, solitary thing,
And ev'ry pang that follý pays io pridle. That feebly bend beside the plashy spring;
Those genile hours that plenty bade to blooin, She, wretched matron! forc'd in age for bread,
Those calm desires that ask'd but little room, To strip the brook with mantling cresses
Those healthful sports that grac'd the peaceful spread,

To pick 'her wini'ry faggot from the thorn, Liv'd in each look, and brighten'd all the green; To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morní Those, far departing, seek a minder shore, She only left, of all the harmless train, And rural mirth and manners are 10 morc. The sad historian of the pensive plain,


Near yonder copse, whereonce the garden sinil'd, A man severe he was, and stern to view ;
And still where many a garden How'r grows wild, I knew him well, and every truant knew.
There, where a few turn shrubs the place disclose, Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The village preacher's modest mansion rose. The day's disasters in his morning face :
A man he was to all the country dear, Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee
And passing rich with forty pounds a-year ; At all his jokes, for many a joke hadi he;
Remote frotu towns he ran his godly race, Full well the busy udhisper circling round
Nor e'er had chany'd, nor wish'd to chanze, lis Convey'd the di-nal tidings when he frown'd.
Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for pow'r, [jılace; Yet he was kind; or, ii suvere in anght,
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour, The love he bore to learning was in fault;
Fár other aims his heart had learn'd to prize, The village all dechai'd how much he know;
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise. "Twas certain he could write and cypher too ;
His house was known to all the vagrant trin; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,
llechid their wand'rings, but reliev'd their pain. And ev'n the story ran that he could gauge ;
'The long-remember'd beggar was his guest, in arguing too the parson own'd his skill,
Whose beard descending swept his aged breast; For, even though vanquish’d, he could argue
The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, still;
Claim'd kindred there, and had his clai.sallow'd; While words of learned length, and thund'ring
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,

sound, Sar by his fire, and talk'd the night away; Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang’d around; Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, and still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew, Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were That one small bead could carry all he knew. won.

But past is all his fame, the very spot, Pleas'd with his guests the good man learn d to where many a time he triumph'd is forgot. And quite forgot their vices in their woe;[glow, Near yonder thorn that litts its head on high, Careless their merits or their faults to scan, Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, His pity gave ere charity began.

Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, inspir'd, And er'n his failinys lean’d to Virtue's side ; Where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retird, But in his duty prompt at ev'ry call,

Where village statesmen talk'd with looks proIle watch'd and wepi, lie pray'd and felt for all. found, And, as a bird each fond endearment trics, And news much older than their ale went round. To tempt her new-fledg:d offspring to the skies : Imagination fondly stoops to trace He tried cach art, reprov'd cach dull delay, The parlour splendors of that festive place; Allur'd to brighter worlds, and let the way. The white-wash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor,

Beside the bed, where parting lite was laid, Thevarnish'd clock that click'd behind the door ;
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay’d, The chest contriv'd a double debt to pay,
Tho rev’rend champion stood : At his control A bed by night, a chest of draw’rs by day;
Despair an: anguish fled the struggling soul ; The pictures plac'd for ornament and use,
Comfort came down the trembling wretch toraise, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ;
And his last falt'ring accents whisper'd praise. The hearth, except when winter chillid the day,

Ai church, with meck aud malfected grace, With aspeu boughs, and flow'rs, and fennel gay.
His looks adorn'd the venerable place ; While broken, tea-cups, wisely kept for show,
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, Rang d o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row.
And fooks, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray. Vain transitory splendor! could not all
The service past, around the pious man, Repricve the toti’ring mansion from its fall?
With ready zeal each honest rustic ran : Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart
Ei’n children follow'd with endearing wile, An hour's importance to the poor man's heart ;
And pluck'd his gown to share the good man's Thither no more the peasant shall repair

To sweet oblivion of his claily care ;
Ilis ready smile a parent's warmth expressid, No more the farmer's news, tbe barber's tale,
Their welfare pleas’d him, and their care No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail ;

No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, Relax his pond'rous strength, and lean to hear; But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. The host himself no longer shall be found, As sone tall cliff that lists its awful form, Careful to see the manting bliss So


; Swells from the rale, and midway leaves the Nor the coy, maid, half willing to be prest, storin,

Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. Tho'round its breast the’rolling clouds are spread, Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, Esernal sanshine settles on its head.

These simple blessings of the lowly train : Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, To ne more dear, congenial to my heart, With blossoin frunze unprofitably gay,

One native charm, than all the gloss of art : There in his noisy mansion skill'd to rule, Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play, The village master taught his little school ; The soul adopts, and owns their first-born swav;


Lightly Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, The dome where pleasure holds her midnight Unenvied, unmolested, unconfu'd :

reign, But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, Here, richly deck'd, admits the gorgeous train; With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd, Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. The toiling pleasure sickens into pain: Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy! And, ev'n while fashion's brightest arts decoy, Sure these denote one universal joy!

eyes The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy? Are these thy serious thoughts? Ah, turn thine

Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey, Where the poor hvuseless shiv'ring female lies. The rich nian's joys increase, the poor's decay, She, once, perhaps, in village plenty blest, "Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand Has wept at tales of innocence distrest; Between a splendid and a happy land. Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn; And shouting folly hails them from her shore; Now lost to all; her friends, her virtue fed, Hoards, ev'n beyond the inizer's wishi, abonnd; Near her betrayer's door she lays her head; And rich men tock from all the world around; And pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the Yet count our gains: this wealth is but a name show'r, That leaves our useful product still the same. With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, Not so the loss: the man of wealth and pride When idly' first, ambitious of the town, Takes up a space that many poor supplied ; She left her wheel, and robes of country brown. Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, Do thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveliest Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds; Do thy fair tribes participate her pain? (train, The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth, Ev'n now, perhaps, by celd and hunger led, Has robb’d the neighb'ring fields of half their Al proud men's doors they ask a little bread! growth;

Ah, no! to distant climes, a dreary scene, His seat, where solitary sports are seen,

Where half the convex world intrudes between, Indignant spurns the courage from the green; Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, Around the world each needful product flies,

Where wild Aliama murinurs to their woe. For all the luxuries the world supplies. Far diff'rent there from all that charins before, While thus the land adorn'd for pleasure all, The various terrors of that horrid shore; In barren splendor feebly waits the fall. Those blazing stins that dart a downward ray,

As some fair female, unadorn'd and plain, And fiercely shed intolerable day; Secure to please while youth confirins her reign, Those matiéd woods where birds forget to sing, Slights ev'ry borrow'd charm that dress supplies : But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling: Nor shares with art the triumph of her cyes: Those pois'nous fields with rank luxuriance Butwhen thosecharmsare past (forcharmsurefrail)

crown'd, When time advancus, and when lovers fail, Where the dark scorpion gathers death around; She then shines forth, solicitous to bless, Where at each step ihe stranger fears to wake In all the glaring impotence of dress.

The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake; Thus fares the land, by luxury betray'd, Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey, In nature's simplest charms at first array'd ; And savage men, more murd'rous still than they; But, verging to decline, its splendors rise, While oft in whirls the mad tornado fies, Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise,

Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies. While, scourg'd býfamine from the smiling land, Far diff'rent these from ev'ry former scene, The mournful peasant leads his humble band; The cooling brook, the grassy-lested green, And while he sinks, without one arm to saye, The breezy covert of the warbling grove, The country blooms -- a garden and a grave! That only shelter'd thefts of harniless Jore.

Where then, ah where, shall poverty reside, Good Heaven! what sorrows gloom'd that To 'scape the pressure of contigious pride?

parting day, li to soine common's fenceless limits stray'd, That callid them from their native walks away; He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade, When the poor exiles, ev'ry pleasure past, [last, Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, Hung round the bow'rs, and fondly look diheir And ev’n the bare-worn common is denied. And took a long farewell, and wish'd in vain

Ifto the city sped — what waits him there? For seats like these beyond the western main; To see profusion that he njust not share ; And shudd'ring still to face the distant deep, To see ien thousand baneful arts combin'd Return’d and wept, and still return'd to weep! To pamper luxury, and thin maukind; The good old sire the first prepar'd to go To see each joy the sons of pleasure know To new-found worlds, and wept for others'woe; Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe. But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade, He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave. There the pale artist plies the sickly trade; His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomp The fond companion of his hapless years, display,

Silent went next, neglectful of her charms, There the black gibbet gloons beside the way. And left a lover's for her father's arms.

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With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, Forbear, my son,' the Hermit cries,
And bless'd the cot where every pleasure rose; To tempt the dang’rous gloom;
And kiss'd her thoughtless babes with inanya tear, ' For yonder phantoin only Aies
And clasp'd them close, in sorrow doubly dear ; • To lure thee to thy doom.
Whilst her fond husband strore to lend relief

· Here to the houseless child of want In all the silent inanliness of grief.

My door is open still; 0, luxury! thou curst by Heaven's decree,

And, tho' my portion is but scant, How ill exchang’d are things like these for thee!

• I give it with good-will. How do thy potions, with insidious joy, Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy!

· Then turn to-night, and freely share Kingdoms, by thee to sickly greatness grown,

• Whate'er my cell bestows; Boast of a florid vigor not their own.

My rushy couch and frugal fare, At ev'ry draught more large and large they row,

• My blessing and repose. A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe;

No flocks that range the valley free
Till sapp'd their strength, and ev'ry part unsound, • To slaughter I condemn;
Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.' Taught by that power that pities me,
Even now the devastation is begun,

I learn to pity them:
And half the business of destruction done ;

• But from the mountain's grassy side Ev'n now, methinks, as pond'ring here I sland,

A guiltless feast I bring; I see the rural virtues leave the land.

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with herbs and fruit supplied, Down whereyon anch'ring vessel spreads the sail,

· And water from the spring. That i'lly waiting flaps with every gale, Downward they move, a melancholy band,

* Then pilgrim, turn, the cares forego; Piss from the shore, and darken all the strand.

All earth-born cares are wrong: Contented toil, and hospitable care,

Man wants but little here below, And kind connubial tenderness, are there;

• Nor wants that little long.' And picty with wishes plac'd abovc,

Soft as the dew froin heaven descends,
And steady loyalty, and faithful love.

His gentle accents fell :
And thou, sweet poetry, thou loveliest maid, The modest 'stranger lowly bends,
Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ; And follows to the cell.
Unfit in these degen'rate times of shame, Fai a wilderness obscure
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame; The lonely mansion lay;
Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, A refuge to the neighb'ring poor,
My shame in crowds, my solitary pride ! And strangers led astray.
Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe,

No stoves beneath its humble thatch
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so;

Requir'd a master's care; Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel,

The wicket, op'ning with a latch,
Thou source of ev'ry virtue, fare thee well !

Receiv'd the harmless pair.
Farewell! and, oh! where'er thy voice be tried,
On Torrio's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side, And now, when busy crowds retire
Whether where equinoctial fervors glow,

To take their ev’ning rest,
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow,

The Hermit trimm'd his little fire,
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,

And cheer'd his pensive guest; ,
Redress the rigors of th' inclement clime ; And spread his vegetable store,
Aid slighted truth with thy persuasive strain, And gaily press'd and smild;
Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain; And skill'din legendary lore,
Teach him that states, of nativesirength possest, The ling'ring hours beguild.
Though very poor, may still be very blest;
That irade's proud empire hastes to swifi decay,

Around in sympathetic inirth

Its tricks the kitten tries,
As ocean sweeps the labor'd mole away;
While self dependent pow'r can time defy,

The cricket chirrups in the hearth,
As rocks resist the billows and the sky.

The crackling faggot flies.
But nothing could a charm impart

To sooth the stranger's woe; $3. Edwin and Angelina. A Ballad.

For grict was heavy at his heart,

And tears began to flow. • Turx, gentle Hermit of the dale,

His rising cares the Hermit spied, And guide my lonely way

With answ'ring care oppressid: • To where yon taper cheers the vale * And whence, unhappy youth,' he cried, . With hospitable ray.

• The sorrows of thy breast ? • For here forlorn and lost I tread,

· From better habitations spurnd, : With fainting steps and slow;

Reluctant dost thon rove? • Where wilds, immeasurably spread,

Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, • Seem leugih’ning as I go..

Or unrogardel lore:


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• Alas! the joys that fortune brings

· Till, quite dejected with my scorn, · Are trilling and decay;

• He left me to my pride; • And those who prize the paltry things And sought a solitude forlorn • More trifling still than ihe;.

In secret, where he died. • And what is friendship but a name,

· But inine the sorrow, mine the fault! · A charm that lulls to sleep;

And well my life shall pay; • A shade that follows wealth or fame,

I'll seek the sofiuude be sought," And leaves the wretch to weep?

And stretch me where he lay! • And love is still an emptier sound,

And there forlorn, despairing, hid; « The modern fair-one's jest ;

I'll lay me down and die; . On earth uns,e1, or only found

" "Twas so for me that Edwin did, To warm the turtle's nest.

And so for bin will I!' For shame! fond youth, thy sorrows hush, • Forbid it, Heaven!' the Hermit cried, And spurn the scx !' he said :

And clasp'd her to his breast : But, while he spoke, a rising blush

The wond ring fair-one turn'd to chide His love-lorn guest betray'd.

"T'was Edwin's self that press'd. Surpris'd he sees new beauties rise,

- Turn Angelina, cver dear, Swift maniling to the view,

My charmer, turn to see Like colors o'er the morning skies,

Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, As bright, as transient too.

Restor'd to love and thee! The bashful look, the rising breast,

· Thus let me hold thee to my heart, Alternate spread alarins;

• And ev'ry care resign: The lovely stranger stands confest

« And shall we never, never part, A maid in all her charms.

My life my all that's mine? And, - ah! forgive a stranger rude,

No, never from this hour to part; A wretch forlorn,' she cried,

« We'll live and love so true, • Whose feet unliallow'd thus intrude

· The sigh that rends thy constant heart • Where Heaven and you reside!

• Shall break thy Edwin's too!' · But let a maid thy pity share, · Whom love has taught to stray; · Who seeks for rest, but finds despair § 4. A Pastoral.

In Four Parts. Pope Companion of her way.

To Sir William Trumbal. My father liv'd beside the Tyne,

PASTORAL I. SPRING. A wealthy lord was he;

First in these fields I try the sylvan strains, • And all his wealth was inark'd as mine,

Nor blush to sport on Windsor's blissful plains. • He had but only nie.

Fair Thames, flow gently from thy sacred spring, • To win ine from his tender arms

While on thy banks Sicilian Muses sing; • Unnumber'd suitors came;

Let vernal airs through trembling osiers play, • Who prais'd me for imputed charms, And Albiou's cliffs resound the rural lay: ' And felt, or feign'd a flame.

You that, too wise for pride, too good for pow's, • Each hour a mercenary crowd

Enjoy the glory to be great no more, • With richest proffers strove;

And, carrying with you all the world can boast,

To all the world illustriously are lost ! • Among the rest young Edwin bow'd, But never talkid of love.

O let my Muse her slender recd inspire,

Till in your native shades you tune the lyre • In humble, simplest habit clad,

So when the nightingale to rest removes, • No wealth or power had he;

The thrush may chant to the forsaken groves; · Wisdom and worth were all he had,

But, charm'd to silence, listens while she sings, • But these were all to me.

And all th' aërial audience clap their wings. • The blossom op'ning to the day,

Soon as the flocks shook off the nightly dews, · The dews of leaven refin'd,

Two Swains, whom love kept wakeful, and the · Could nought of purity display

Musc, • To emulate his mind.

Pourd o'er the whitening vale their fleecy care, · The dew, the blocsoms of the tree,

Fresh as the morn, and as the season fair : : With charms inconstant shine ;

The dawn now blushing on the mountain's side, • Their charıns were his, but, woe to inc! Thus Daphnis spoke, and Strephon thus replied:

• Their constancy was mine. · For still I tried each fickle art,

lear how the birds, on ever bloomy spray, • Importunate and vain :

With joyous music wake the dawning day! And while his passion touch'd my heart, Why sit ve mute when early linnets sing, . I triumplid in his pain :

When warbling Philomel salutes the spring?



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