ELEGANT EXTRACTS

POETICAL.

BOOK THE SECOND.

DIDACTIC, DESCRIPTIVE, NARRATIVE, AND

PATHETIC.

S

The dancing pair that simply sought renown, § 1. The Deserted Village. GOLDSMITH. By holding out to tire each other down; WEET Auburn! loveliest village of the The swain, mistrustless of his smutted face, plain, [swain; While secret laughter titter'd round the place; The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love, The matron's glance that would those looks [like these, These were thy charms, sweet village! sports With sweet succession taught e'en toil to please; [ence shed, These round thy bow'rs their cheerful influThese were thy charms-but all these charms are fled.

Where health and plenty cheer'd the laboring
Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,
And parting summer's ling'ring blooms de-
lay'd!

Dear lovely bow'rs of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth when ev'ry sport could
please,

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,
The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm,
The never-failing brook, the busy mill, [hill,
The decent church that topp'd the neighb'ring
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the
shade,

For talking age and whisp'ring lovers made!
How often have I blest the coming day,
When toil remitting lent its turn to play;
And all the village train, from labor free,
Led up their sports beneath the spreading
tree;

While many a pastime circled in the shade,
The young contending as the old survey'd :
And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground,
And sleights of art and feats of strength went
round.

And still, as each repeated pleasure tir'd,
Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspir'd;

reprove

Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn ;

Amidst thy bow'rs the tyrant's hand is seen,
And desolation saddens all thy green :
One only master grasps the whole domain,
And half a tillage tints thy smiling plain;
No more thy glassy brook reflects the day,
But, chok'd with sedges, works its weedy way;
Along thy glades a solitary guest,

The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest;
Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies,
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
Sunk are thy bow'rs in shapeless ruin all,
And the long grass o'ertops the mould'ring

wall;

And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,

Far, far away thy children leave the and.

Ill fares the land, to hast'ning 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:

But on he moves to meet his latter end,
Angels around befriending virtue's friend,
Sinks to the grave with unperceiv'd decay,
While resignation gently slopes the way;
And, all his prospects bright'ning to the last,
His heaven commences ere the world be past!
Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's
close,

But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd, can never be supplied. A time there was, ere England's griefs began, [man; Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ; When every rood of ground maintain'd its There as I pass'd, with careless steps and slow, For him light labour spread her wholesome The mingling notes came soften'd from be

store;
Just gave what life requir'd, but gave no more:
His best companions, innocence and health;
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.

scene,

low;

The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung,
The sober herd that low'd to meet their young,
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,
The playful children just let loose from school,
The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whisp'ring
wind,

And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind;
These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
And fill'd each pause the nightingale had
made.

But times are alter'd: trade's unfeeling train Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain; Along the lawn where scatter'd hamlets rose, Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose; And ev'ry want to luxury allied, And ev'ry pang that folly pays to pride. Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, Those calm desires that ask'd but little room, But now the sounds of population fail, Those healthful sports that grac'd the peaceful No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, [green: No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread, Liv'd in each look, and brighten'd all the But all the bloomy flush of life is fled : These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, And rural mirth and manners are no more. Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour, Thy glades forlorn confess'd the tyrant's pow'r. Here, as I take my solitary rounds, Amidst thy tangling walks, and ruin'd grounds; And, many a year elaps'd, return to view Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew;

Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.
In all my wand'rings round this world of
care,

In all my grief, (and God has given my share,)
I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,
Amidst these humble bow'rs 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-learn'd
skill;

Around my fire, an evening group to draw,
And tell of all I felt, and all I saw :
And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pur-
[flew,
Pants to the place, from whence at first he
I still had hopes, my long vexations past,
Here to return, and die at home at last.

sue,

O blest retirement, friend to life's decline,
Retreat from care, that never must be mine!
How blest is he, who crowns, in shades like
these,

A youth of labour with an age of ease; [try,
Who quits a world where strong temptations
And since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly!
For him no wretches, born to work and weep,
Explore the mine, or tempt the dang'rous deep;
No surly porter stands in guilty state,
To spurn imploring famine from the gate;

All but yon widow'd, solitary thing,
That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;
She, wretched matron! forc'd in age, for bread,
To strip the brook with mantling cresses
spread,

To pick her wint'ry faggot from the thorn,
To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn;
She only left, of all the harmless train,
The sad historian of the pensive plain.

Near yonder copse, where once the garden
smil'd,

[wild, And still where many a garden flow'r grows There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,

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 chang'd, nor wish'd to change, his
place;

Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for pow'r,
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
His house was known to all the vagrant train;
He chid their wand'rings, but reliev'd their
pain.

The long-remember'd beggar was his guest,
Whose beard descending swept his aged
breast;

The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud,
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims al-
low'd;

The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,
Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away:
Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow
done,

Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields

were won.

Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd, | And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew,

With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay,
There in his noisy mansion skill'd to rule,
The village master taught his little school.
A man severe he was, and stern to view:
I knew him well, and every truant knew.
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to One native charm, than all the gloss of art:

And ev'n the story ran that he could gauge. In arguing too the parson own'd his skill, The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, For e'en though vanquish'd, he could argue 'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand still; [sound, Between a splendid and a happy land. [ore, While words of learned length, and thund'ring Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around; And shouting folly hails them from her shore ;

thorn;

Hoards, e'en beyond the miser's wish, abound; | She, once, perhaps, in village plenty blest,
And rich men flock from all the world around: Has wept at tales of innocence distrest;
Yet count our gains; this wealth is but a name Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,
That leaves our useful product still the same. Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the
Not so the loss: the man of wealth and pride
Takes up a space that many poor supplied;
Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds,
Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds;
The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth,
Has robb'd the neighb'ring fields of half their
growth;

His seat, where solitary sports are seen,
Indignant spurns the cottage from the green;
Around the world each needful product flies,
For all the luxuries the world supplies:
While thus the land adorn'd for pleasure all,
In barren splendor feebly waits the fall.

As some fair female, unadorn'd and plain,
Secure to please while youth confirms her
reign,
[plies,
Slights ev'ry borrow'd charm that dress sup-
Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes:
But when those charms are past (for charms
are frail),

When time advances, and when lovers fail,
She then shines forth, solicitous to bless,
In all the glaring impotence of dress.
Thus fares the land, by luxury betray'd,
In nature's simplest charms at first array'd;
But, verging to decline, its splendors rise,
Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise, [land,
While, scourg'd by famine from the smiling
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 stray'd,
He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade,
Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth di-
vide,

And e'en the bare-worn common is denied.

If to the city sped-what waits him there?
To see profusion that he must not share;
To see ten thousand baneful arts combin'd
To pamper luxury, and thin mankind;
To see each joy 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 pomp
display,

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

Here, richly deck'd, admits the gorgeous train,
Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing
square,

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

thine eyes
Where the poor houseless shiv'ring female
lies.

Now lost to all; her friends, her virtue fled,
Near her betrayer's door she lays her head:
And pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the
show'r,

With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,
When idly first, ambitious of the town,
She left her wheel, and robes of country brown.
Do thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveli-
est train,

Do thy fair tribes participate her pain?
E'en now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led,
At proud men's doors they ask a little bread!
Ah, no! to distant climes, a dreary scene,
Where half the convex world intrudes between,
Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they

go,

Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe.
Far diff'rent there from all that charm'd be-
fore,

The various terrors of that horrid shore;
Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray,
And fiercely shed intolerable day;
Those matted woods where birds forget to sing,
But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling:
Those pois'nous fields with rank luxuriance
crown'd,

Where the dark scorpion gathers death around;
Where at each step the stranger fears to wake
The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake;
Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey,
And savage men, more murd'rous still than

And kiss'd her thoughtless babes with many a" For here forlorn and lost I tread, tear, [dear; With fainting steps and slow; And clasp'd them close, in sorrow doubly Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief In all the silent manliness of grief.

O, luxury thou curst by Heaven's decree, How ill exchang'd are things like these for

thee!

How do thy potions, with insidious joy,
Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy!
Kingdoms, by thee to sickly greatness grown,
Boast of a florid vigor not their own. [grow,
At ev'ry draught more large and large they
A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe;
Till sapp'd their strength, and ev'ry part un-
sound,
[round.
Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin
Even now the devastation is begun,
And half the bus'ness of destruction done;
E'en now, methinks, as pond'ring here I
stand,

I see the rural virtues leave the land. [sail,
Down where yon anch'ring vessel spreads the
That idly waiting flaps with every gale,
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 plac'd 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 degen'rate times of shame
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame;
Dear charming nymph, neglected and de-
cried,

My shame in crowds, my solitary pride!
Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe,
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st

me so;

Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel;
Thou source of ev'ry virtue, fare thee well!
Farewell! and, oh! where'er thy voice be tried,
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side;
Whether where equinoctial fervors glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow;
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,
Redress the rigors of th' 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 pos-

sest,

Though very poor, may still be very blest;
That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay,
As ocean sweeps the labor'd mole away;
While self-dependent pow'r can time defy,
As rocks resist the billows and the sky.
§ 2. Edwin and Angelina. A Ballad.
GOLDSMITH.

" TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way
To where yon taper cheers the vale
With hospitable ray,

Seem length'ning as I go."

"Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries,
For yonder phantom only flies
"To tempt the dang'rous gloom;

To lure thee to thy doom.
"Here to the houseless child of want
My door is open still;

And, though my portion is but scant,
I give it with good-will.

"Then turn to-night, and freely share
Whate'er my cell bestows;
My rushy couch and frugal fare,

My blessing and repose.

"No flocks that range the valley free
To slaughter I condemn ;
Taught by that power that pities me
I learn to pity them:

"But from the mountain's grassy side

A guiltless feast I bring;

A scrip with herbs and fruit supplied,
And water from the spring.

"Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
All earth-born cares are wrong:
Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long."
Soft as the dew from heaven descends,
His gentle accents fell :
The modest stranger lowly bends,
And follows to the cell.
Far in a wilderness obscure

The lonely mansion lay;
A refuge to the neighb'ring poor,
And strangers led astray.

No stores beneath its humble thatch
Requir'd a master's care;
The wicket, op'ning with a latch,
Receiv'd the harmless pair.
And now, when busy crowds retire

To take their ev'ning rest,
The Hermit trimm'd his little fire,

And cheer'd his pensive guest;
And spread his vegetable store,

And skill'd in legendary lore,
And gaily press'd and smil'd;

The ling'ring hours beguil'd.
Around in sympathetic mirth

Its tricks the kitten tries;
The cricket chirrups in the hearth,
The crackling faggot flies.
But nothing could a charm impart
To soothe the stranger's woe;
For grief was heavy at his heart
And tears began to flow.
His rising cares the Hermit spied,

With answering care oppress'd;