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 cre charity began.

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 The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,

175

And his last faltering accents whispered praise.

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

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; 197
I knew him well, and every truant knew;
Well had the boding tremblers learned to

trace

The day's disasters in his morning face; 200

pre

209

sage, And even the story ran that he could gauge; In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill, For, even tho' vanquished, he could argue still;

While words of learned length and thundering sound

Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around; And still they gazed, and still the wonder

grew, 215 That one small head could carry all he knew. But past is all his fame. The very spot Where many a time he triumphed is forgot. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Where once the sign-post caught the passing

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 longer 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

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.
314
Here while the courtier glitters in brocade,
There the pale artist plies the sickly trade;
Here while the proud their long-drawn pomps
display,

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

319

Where the poor houseless shivering female lies.

She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest, Has wept at tales of innocence distrest; Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn: 330

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 shower,

With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, When idly first, ambitious of the town, 335 She left her wheel and robes of country brown. Do thine, sweet Auburn, - thine, the loveliest train,

And savage men more murderous still than they;

While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, Mingling the ravaged landscape 'with the skies.

Far different these from every former scene, The cooling brook, the grassy vested green, The breezy covert of the warbling grove, 361 That only sheltered thefts of harmless love.

Good Heaven! what sorrows gloom'd that parting day,

That called them from their native walks away;

1 the Altamaha river, in Georgia

When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, Hung round the bowers, and fondly looked

their last, 366 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 371 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

Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried,"
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;

414

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,' 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.3 430

Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind,

And to party gave up what was meant for mankind:

Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat

To persuade Tommy Townshend1 to lend him a vote;

Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining,

And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining;

Tho' equal to all things, for all things unfit; Too nice 2 for a statesman, too proud for a wit; For a patriot too cool; for a drudge disobedient;

And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient.

40

In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd or in place, Sir,

To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a