REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, flow,
Or by the lazy Scheld, or wandering Po;
Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor
Against the houseless stranger fhuts the door;
Or where Campania's plain forfaken lies,
A weary wafte expanding to the fkies;
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee:
Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
Eternal bleffings crown my earlieft friend, And round his dwelling guardian faints attend ; Bleft be that spot, where cheerful guests retire To paufe from toil, and trim their evening fire;
* In this poem, as it paffed through different editions, feveral alterations were made, and some additional verfes introduced. We have followed the ninth edition, which was the last that appeared in the life-time of the Author.
Bleft that abode, where want and pain repair,
And every stranger finds a ready chair:
Bleft be thofe feasts with fimple plenty crown'd,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,
Or figh with pity at some mournful tale ;
Or prefs the bashful ftranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good.
But me, not deftin'd fuch delights to share,
My prime of life in wandering spent and care:
Impell'd, with steps unceafing, to pursue
Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view;
That, like the circle bounding earth and skies,
Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies;
My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
And find no spot of all the world my own.
Ev'n now, where Alpine folitudes afcend, I fit me down a penfive hour to spend ; And, plac'd on high above the ftorm's career, Look downward where an hundred realms appear; Lakes, forefts, cities, plains extending wide, The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride.
When thus Creation's charms around combine, Amidst the store, should thankless pride repine? Say, should the philofophic mind difdain That good which makes each humbler bofom vain ? Let fchool-taught pride diffemble all it can,
These little things are great to little man;
And wiser he, whofe fympathetic mind.
Exults in all the good of all mankind.
Ye glittering towns, with wealth and fplendor crown'd;
Ye fields, where summer spreads profufion round;
Ye lakes, whofe veffels catch the busy gale;
Ye bending fwains, that drefs the flowery vale;
For me your tributary ftores combine :
Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine.
As fome lone, mifer, vifiting his store,
Bends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er ;
Hoards after hoards his rifing raptures fill,,
Yet ftill he fighs, for hoards are wanting still :
Thus to my breaft alternate paffions rife,
Pleas'd with each good that heaven to man fupplies:
Yet oft a figh prevails, and forrows fall,
To fee the hoard of human bliss so small;
And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find
Some spot to real happiness confign'd,
Where my worn foul, each wandering hope at reft,
May gather blifs to fee my fellows blest.
But where to find that happiest spot below,
Who can direct, when all pretend to know?
The fhudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone
Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own;
Extols the treasures of his ftormy feas,
And his long nights of revelry and ease;
The naked negro, panting at the line,
Boafts of his golden fands and palmy wine,
Basks in the glare, or ftems the tepid wave,
And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.
Such is the patriot's boaft, where'er we roam,
His firft, beft country, ever is at home.
And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,
And eftimate the bleffings which they share,
Though patriots flatter, ftill fhall wisdom find
An equal portion dealt to all mankind;
As different good, by art or nature given,
To different nations makes their bleffings even.
Nature, a mother kind alike to all,
Still grants her bliss at labour's earnest call ;
With food as well the peafant is fupply'd
On Idra's cliffs as Arno's fhelvy fide;
And though the rocky crefted fummits frown,
These rocks, by custom, turn to beds of down.
From art more various are the bleffings fent ;
Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, content.
Yet these each other's power so strong contest,
That either feems deftructive of the reft.
Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails;
And honour finks where commerce long prevails.
Hence every ftate to one lov'd bleffing prone,
Conforms and models life to that alone.
Each to the fav'rite happiness attends,
And spurns the plan that aims at other ends;
"Till carried to excefs in each domain,
This fav'rite good begets peculiar pain,
But let us try these truths with clofer eyes, And trace them through the prospect as it lies: Here for a while my proper cares refign'd, Here let me fit in forrow for mankind; Like yon neglected fhrub at random caft, That fhades the fteep, and fighs at every blaft.
Far to the right where Apennine afcends, Bright as the fummer, Italy extends; Its uplands floping deck the mountain's fide, Woods over woods in gay theatric pride; While oft fome temple's mould'ring tops between With venerable grandeur mark the scene.
Could nature's bounty fatisfy the breast,
The fons of Italy were furely bleft.
Whatever fruits in different climes were found,
That proudly rife, or humbly court the ground;
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear,
Whose bright fucceffion decks the varied year;
Whatever fweet falute the northern sky
With vernal lives, that bloffom but to die ;
These here difporting own the kindred foil,
Nor afk luxuriance from the planter's toil;
While fea-born gales their gelid wings expand
To winnow fragrance round the smiling land.
But fmall the blifs that fenfe alone beftows, And fenfual blifs is all the nation knows.
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