THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 603 But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all; And, as a bird each fond endearment tries Beside the bed where parting life was laid, And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed, The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face; At all his jokes, for many a joke had he; Lands he could measure, terms and tides pre sage, And e'en the story ran that he could gauge. And his last faltering accents whispered praise. In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill, For, e'en though vanquished, he could argue At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorned the venerable place; Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. The service past, around the pious man, His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest; Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed; To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given But all his serious thoughts had rest in hea ven. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired, Where gray-beard mirth and smiling toil retired, Where village statesmen talked with looks profound, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the And news much older than their ale went storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head. round. Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlor splendors of that festive place: The whitewashed wall, the nicely sanded floor, Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the The varnished clock that clicked behind the way, With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to viewI knew him well, and every truant knew; door, The chest contrived a double debt to pay- goose; The hearth, except when winter chilled the | Hoards, e'en beyond the miser's wish, abound, gay; While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, Vain, transitory splendor! could not all name, That leaves our useful products still the same. Not so the loss: the man of wealth and pride Takes up a space that many poor supplied- Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds; His seat, where solitary sports are seen, Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to For all the luxuries the world supplies; hear; The host himself no longer shall be found Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who sur vey The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay! While thus the land, adorned for pleasure all, As some fair female, unadorned and plain, Secure to please while youth confirms her reign, Slights every borrowed charm that dress supplies, Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes; When time advances, and when lovers fail, The mournful peasant leads his humble band; Where then, ah! where, shall poverty reside, 'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand | To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride? Between a splendid and a happy land. If, to some common's fenceless limits strayed, Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade, ore, Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth di vide, And shouting Folly hails them from her shore; And even the bare-worn common is denied. THE DESERTED VILLAGE. If to the city sped, what waits him there? To see each joy the sons of pleasure know 605 Far different there, from all that charmed be- The various terrors of that horrid shore: Those matted woods where birds forget to But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling; Those pois'nous fields, with rank luxuriance crowned, There the black gibbet glooms beside the Where the dark scorpion gathers death around; way. The dome where pleasure holds her midnight Where at each step the stranger fears to wake reign, The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake; Here, richly decked, admits the gorgeous Where crouching tigers wait their hapless train; prey, Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing And savage men more murderous still than While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, Mingling the ravaged landscape with the skies. The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. thine eyes Where the poor, houseless, shivering female The breezy covert of the warbling grove, Do thine, sweet Auburn-thine the love- To new-found worlds, and wept for others' And kissed her thoughtless babes with many Whether where equinoctial fervors glow, a tear, Or winter wraps the polar world in snow— And clasped them close, in sorrow doubly Still let thy voice, prevailing over time, dear; Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief Aid slighted truth with thy persuasive strain; In all the silent manliness of grief. O luxury thou curst by Heaven's decree, How ill exchanged are things like these for thee! How do thy potions, with insidious joy, At every draught more large and large they A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe; Till sapped their strength, and every part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. Even now the devastation is begun, I see the rural virtues leave the land. Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail That, idly waiting, flaps with every gale- Contented toil, and hospitable care, And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel! On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side Redress the rigors of th' inclement clime; Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain; Teach him that states, of native strength possest, Though very poor, may still be very blest; As ocean sweeps the labored mole away; OLIVER GOLDSMITH. THE BELLS OF SHANDON. Sabbata pango; Solemnia clango. INSCRIPTION ON AN OLD BELL WITH deep affection I often think of Those Shandon bells, On this I ponder Sweet Cork, of thee- I've heard bells chiming Spoke naught like thine |