These were thy charms but all these charms are fled. wol of Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, Thy sports are fled and all thy charms with

drawn god ide sve viq 236 Amidst thy boats the tyrant's hand is seen And desolation saddens all thy greenrio One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain. 40 No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way;

Along the glades, a solitary guest,

The hollow sounding bittern guards its nest; Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, 45 And tires their echoes with unvaried cries; Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall;

And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,

Far, far away thy children leave the land. 50 Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay: Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made: 54

But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied. A time there was, ere England's griefs began,

When every rood of ground maintained its

77

Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour, Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power. Here, as I take my solitary rounds Amidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds, And, many a year elapsed, return to view Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, a Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.

80

In all my wanderings round this world of care,

In all my griefs and God has given my share 84

I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,
Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;
To husband out life's taper at the close,
And keep the flame from wasting by repose:
I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,
Amidst the swains to show my book-learned
skill,

Around my fire an evening group to draw,
And tell of all I felt, and all I saw ;

90

And, as an hare whom hounds and horns pursue

Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,

The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind,

And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant 1 mind;

These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And filled each pause the nightingale had made.

But now the sounds of population fail, 125
No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale,
No busy steps the grass-grown foot-way tread,
For all the bloomy flush of life is fled.
All but yon widowed, solitary thing,
That feebly bends beside the plashy spring:
She, wretched matron, forced in age, for
bread,

131

141

The village preacher's modest mansion rose.
A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich with forty pounds a year;
Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change
his place;

Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power, 145
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,
More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.
His house was known to all the vagrant train ;
He chid their wanderings but relieved their
pain:
150

The long-remembered beggar was his guest, Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;

The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;

The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, 155 Sat by the fire, and talked the night away, Wept o'er his wounds or, tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields

were won.

1 unoccupied by care

Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,

And quite forgot their vices in their woe; 160 Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity begat

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to Virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, 165 He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all,

And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.

Beside the bed where parting life was laid, And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed,

172

His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest; Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distrest:

To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,

But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,

100

Tho' round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,

Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the

Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart
An hour's importance to the poor man's heart.
Thither no more the peasant shall repair 241
To sweet oblivion of his daily care;

No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear; 246

The host himself no ionger shall be found Careful to see the mantling bliss1 go round; Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest, Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.

250

Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain,
These simple blessings of the lowly train;
To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play,
The soul adopts, and owns their first born
sway;

Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind,
Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined.

256

But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed

260

The mournful peasant leads his humble band,
And while he sinks, without one arm to save,
The country blooms - a garden and a grave.
Where then, ah! where, shall poverty
reside,

To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride?
If to some common's fenceless limits strayed
He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade,
Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide,
And even the bare-worn common 2 is denied.

If to the city sped what waits him there?
To see profusion that he must not share; 310
To see ten thousand baneful arts combined
To pamper luxury, and thin mankind;
To see those joys the sons of pleasure know
Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe.
Here while the courtier glitters in brocade,
There the pale artist plies the sickly trade;
Here while the proud their long-drawn pomps
display,

314

There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. The dome where pleasure holds her midnight reign

319

Here, richly deckt, admits the gorgeous train: Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square,

The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare.
Sure scenes like these no troubles e'en annoy!
Sure these denote one universal joy!
Are these thy serious thoughts?

thine eyes

Ah, turn 325

1i.e., useful products are exchanged for luxuries 2 a field in which all villagers were entitled to pasture their cattle free 3 artisan

371

And took a long farewell, and wished in vain
For seats like these beyond the western main,
And shuddering still to face the distant deep,
Returned and wept, and still returned to weep.
The good old sire the first prepared to go
To new found worlds, and wept for others' woe;
But for himself, in conscious virtue brave,
He only wished for worlds beyond the grave.
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, 375
The fond companion of his helpless years,
Silent went next, neglectful of her charms,
And left a lover's for a father's arms.
With louder plaints the mother spoke her
woes,

And blest the cot where every pleasure rose, And kist her thoughtless babes with many a 381

tear

395

Even now the devastation is begun, And half the business of destruction done; Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand,

I see the rural virtues leave the land.
Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the
sail,

That idly waiting flaps with every gale, 400
Downward they move, a melancholy band,
Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand.
Contented toil, and hospitable care,
And kind connubial tenderness, are there;
And piety with wishes placed above,
And steady loyalty, and faithful love.
And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid,
Still first to fly where sensual joys invade;
Unfit in these degenerate times of shame 409
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame;

405

Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel,
Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well!
Farewell, and oh! where'er thy voice be tried,
On Torno's cliffs,1 or Pambamarca's side,2
Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, 420
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of the inclement clime;
Aid slighted truth with thy persuasive strain;
Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain;
Teach him, that states of native strength
possest,

Tho' very poor, may still be very blest; 426 That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay,

As ocean sweeps the laboured mole away;
While self-dependent power can time defy,
As rocks resist the billows and the sky.3

FROM RETALIATION

430

1 on the boundary between Russia and Sweden 2 a mountain in Ecuador 3 Lines 427-30 were added by Dr. Johnson. Dr. Barnard, Dean of Derry 5 Edmund Burke