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Ind we forget to live from hand to mouth,

Her hollow cheeks were each a deep-sunk cell, Chan Sawney, out of season, shall impart

Where wretchedness and horror lov'd to dwell; The songs of gladness with an aching heart. With double rows of useless teeth supplied, Jockey.

Her mouth, from ear to ear, extended wide, Still have I known thee for a silly swain: Which, when for want of food her entrails pin'd, Of things past help what boots it to complain? She op’d, and, cursing, swallow'd nought but wind; Nothing but mirth can conquer fortune's spite; All shrivell'd was her skin, and here and there, No sky is heavy, if the heart be light:

Making their way by force, her bones lay bare: Patience is sorrow's salve; what can't be cur'd, Such filthy sight to hide from human view, 30 Donald right arreads, must be endur'd.

O’er her foul limbs a tatter'd plaid she threw. Sawney.

Cease, cried the goddess, cease, despairing swains, Full silly swain, I wot, is Jockey now;

And from a parent hear what Jove ordains ! low didst thou hear thy Maggy's falsehood ? how, Pent in this barren corner of the isle, When with a foreign loon she stole away,

Where partial fortune never deign’d to smile; Didst thou forswear thy pipe and shepherd's lay? Like nature's bastards, reaping for our share Where was thy boasted wisdom then, when I What was rejected by the lawful heir; Applied those proverbs, which you now apply? Unknown amongst the nations of the earth, Jockey.

Or only known to raise contempt and mirth ; O she was bonny! All the Highlands round, Long free, because the race of Roman braves Was there a rival to my Maggy found !

Thought it not worth their while to make us slaves; More precious (though that precious is to all) Then into bondage by that nation brought, Ihan the rare med'cine which we brimstone call, Whose ruin we for ages vainly sought; Or that choice plant, so grateful to the nose, Whom still with unslack'd hate we view, and still, Which in I know not what far country grows, The pow'r of mischief lost, retain the will; Was Maggy unto me; dear do I rue,

Consider'd as the refuse of mankind,
A lass so fair should ever prove untrue.

A mass till the last moment left behind,
Sawney.

Which frugal nature doubted, as it lay,
Whether with pipe or song to charm the ear, Whether to stamp with life, or throw away;
Through all the land did Jamie find a peer? Which, form’d in haste, was planted in this nook,
Curs'd be that year by ev'ry honest Scot,

But never enter'd in creation's book; And in the shepherd's calendar forgot,

Branded as traitors, who for love of gold That fatal year, when Jamie, hapless swain, Would sell their God, as once their king they sold; In evil hour forsook the peaceful plain.

Long have we borne this mighty weight of ill, Jamie, when our young laird discreetly fled, These vile injurious taunts, and bear them still. Was seiz'd and hang'd till he was dead, dead, dead. But times of happier note are now at hand, Jockey.

And the full promise of a better land: Full sorely may we all lament that day;

There, like the sons of Israel, having trod, For all were losers in the deadly fray.

For the fix'd term of years ordain’d by God, Five brothers had I on the Scottish plains, (swains; A barren desart, we shall seize rich plains, Well dost thou know were none more hopeful Where milk with honey flows, and plenty reigns. Five brothers there I lost, in manhood's pride, With some few natives join'd, some pliant few, Two in the field, and three on gibbets died:

Who worship int'rest, and our track pursue, Ah! silly swains, to follow war's alarms!

There shall we, though the wretched people grieve Ah! what hath shepherd's life to do with arms! Ravage at large, nor ask the owners leave. Sawney.

For us, the earth shall bring forth her increase; Mention it not—There saw I strangers clad For us, the flocks shall wear a golden fleece; In all the honours of our ravish'd plaid;

Fat beeves shall yield us dainties not our own, Saw the ferrara, too, our nation's pride,

And the grape bleed a nectar yet unknown; Unwilling grace the awkward victor's side. For our advantage shall their harvests grow, There fell our choicest youth, and from that day And Scotsmen reap what they disdain'd to sow; Mote never Sawney tune the merry lay; (survive, For us, the sun shall climb the eastern hill; Bless'd those which fell! curs'd those which still For us, the rain shall fall, the dew distil; To mourn fifteen renew'd in forty-five.

When to our wishes nature cannot rise,

Art shall be task'd to grant us fresh supplies. Thus plain’d the boys,when from her throne ofturf, His brawny arm shall drudging labour strain, With boils emboss'd, and overgrown with scurf, And for our pleasure suffer daily pain; Vile humours, which in life's corrupted well, Trade shall for us exert her utmost pow'rs, Vix'd at the birth, not abstinence could quell,) Her's all the toil, and all the profit our's; Pae Famine rear'd the head: her eager eyes, For us, the oak shall from his native steep Where hunger ev'n to madness seem'd to rise, Descend, and fearless travel through the deep; Speking aloud her throes and pangs of heart, The sail of commerce, for our use unfurl'd, ng in'd to get loose, and from their orbs to start ; Shall waft the treasures of each distant world;

son,

Who most enjoys, and best deserves their love.

For us, sublimer heights shall science reach, When they against their lawful monarch rose, For us, their statesmen plot, their churchmen preach; And dar'd the Lord's Anointed to oppose, Their noblest limbs of counsel we'll disjoint,

What if we still rever'd the banish'd race, And, mocking, new ones of our own appoint; And strove the royal vagrants to replace, Devouring war, imprison'd in the north,

With fierce rebellions shook th' unsettled state, Shall at our call, in horrid pomp break forth, And greatly dar'd though cross'd by partial f22; And when, his chariot wheels with thunder hung, These facts, which might, where wisdom held Fell Discord braying with her brazen tongue,

sway, Death in the van, with Anger, Hate, and Fear, Awake the very stones to bar our way, And Desolation stalking in the rear,

There shall be nothing, nor one trace remain Revenge, by Justice guided, in his train,

In the dull region of an English brain. He drives impetuous o'er the trembling plain, Bless'd with that faith, which mountains can reacsa. Shall, at our bidding, quit his lawful prey,

First they shall dupes,next saints, last marlyn praf And to meek, gentle, gen'rous Peace give way. Already is this game of fate begun

Think not, my sons, that this so bless'd estate Under the sanction of my darling son: Stands at a distance on the roll of fate;

That of nature royal as his name, Already big with hopes of future sway,

Is destin'd to redeem our race from shame; E'en from this cave I scent my destin'd prey. His boundless pow'r, beyond example great

, Think not, that this dominion o'er a race,

Shall make the rough way smooth, the enveksi Whose former deeds shall time's last annals grace, straight; In the rough face of peril must be sought,

Shall for our ease the raging floods restrain, And with the lives of thousands dearly bought; And sink the mountain level to the plain. No-fool'd by cunning, by that happy art

Discord, whom in a cavern under ground Which laughs to scorn the blundering hero's heart, With massy fetters their late Patriot bound, Into the snare shall our kind neighbours fall Where her own flesh the furious hag might tex; With open eyes, and fondly give us all.

And vent her curses to the vacant air; When Rome, to prop her sinking empire, bore Where, that she never might be heard of more, Their choicest levies to a foreign shore,

He planted Loyalty to guard the door; What if we seiz’d, like a destroying flood, (blood, For better purpose shall our chief release, Their widow'd plains, and fillid the realm with Disguise her for a time, and call her Peace. Gave an unbounded loose to manly rage,

Lur’d by that name, fine engine of deceit, And scorning mercy, spar'd nor sex nor age; Shall the weak English help themselves to chest; When, for our int'rest too mighty grown,

To gain our love, with honours shall they grace Monarchs of warlike bent possess'd the throne, The old adherents of the Stuart race, What if we strove divisions to foment,

Who pointed out, no matter by what name, And spread the flames of civil discontent,

Tories or Jacobites are still the same, Assisted those who 'gainst their king made head, To soothe our rage, the temporising brood And gave the traitors refuge when they fled; Shall break the ties of truth and gratitude, When restless Glory bade her sons advance, Against their saviour venom'd falsehoods frame, And pitch'd her standard in the fields of France, And brand with calumny their William's name; What if, disdaining oaths, and empty sound, To win our grace, (rare argument of wit

) By which our nation never shall be bound,

To our untainted faith shall they commit Bravely we taught un muzzled war to roam Chome; (Our faith which, in extremest perils tried

, Through the weak land, and brought cheap laurels Disdain'd, and still disdains, to change her side) When the bold traitors leagu'd for the defence That sacred majesty they all approve, Of Law, Religion, Liberty, and Sense,

GOLDSMITH-A. D. 1729-74.

THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION.

A TALE.

secluded from domestic strife,
ack Book-worm led a college life;
A fellowship at twenty-five,
Aade him the happiest man alive;
le drank his glass, and crack'd his joke,
Ind freshmen wonder'd as he spoke.

Such pleasures, unallay'd with care,
Could any accident impair?
Could Cupid's shaft at length transfix
Jur swain, arriv'd at thirty-six ?

had the archer ne'er come down
so ravage in a country town!
Dr Flavia been content to stop
At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop.

had her eyes forgot to blaze ! Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze; 0!-But let exclamation cease, Her presence banish'd all his peace. So with decorum all things carry'd ; Miss frown'd, and blush’d, and then was married.

Need we expose to vulgar sight
The raptures of the bridal night?
Need we intrude on hallow'd ground,
Or draw the curtains clos'd around?
Let it suffice, that each had charms;
He clasp'd a goddess in his arms;
And, though she felt his usage rough,
Yet in a man 'twas well enough.

The honey-moon like lightning flew;
The second brought its transports too;
A third, a fourth, were not amiss ;
The fifth was friendship mix'd with bliss :
But, when a twelvemonth pass'd away,
Jack found his goddess made of clay;
Found half the charms that deck'd her face
Arose from powder, shreds, or lace;
But still the worst remain'd behind,
That very face had robb’d her mind.

Skill'd in no other arts was she,
But dressing, patching, repartee;
And, just as humour rose or fell,
By turns a slattern or a belle;
Tis true she dress’d with modern grace ;
Half naked at a ball or race;
But when at home, at board or bed,
Five greasy night-caps wrapp'd her head.
Could so much beauty condescend
To be a dull domestic friend?
Could any curtain-lectures bring

o decency so fine a thing?
a short, by night, 'twas fits or fretting;

By day, 'twas gadding or coquetting.
Fond to be seen, she kept a bevy
Of powder'd coxcombs at her levy;
The 'squire and captain took their stations,
And twenty other near relations;
Jack suck'd his pipe, and often broke
A sigh in suffocating smoke;
While all their hours were pass'd between
Insulting repartee or spleen.

Thus as her faults each day were known,
He thinks her features coarser grown;
He fancies every vice she shows,
Or thins her lip, or points her nose:
Whenever rage or envy rise,
How wide her mouth, how wild her eyes!
He knows not how, but so it is,
Her face is grown a knowing phyz;
And, though her fops are wondrous civil,
He thinks her ugly as the devil.

Now, to perplex the ravell’d nooze,
As each a different way pursues,
While sullen or loquacious strife
Promised to hold them on for life,
That dire disease, whose ruthless power
Withers the beauty's transient flower,
Lol the small-pox, whose horrid glare
Levell'd its terrors at the fair;
And, rifling every youthful grace,
Left but the remnant of a face.

The glass, grown hateful to her sight,
Reflected now a perfect fright:
Each former art she vainly tries
To bring back lustre to her eyes.
In vain she tries her paste and creams,
To smooth her skin, or hide its seams;
Her country beaux and city cousins,
Lovers no more, flew off by dozens :
The 'squire himself was seen to yield,
And ev’n the captain quit the field.

Poor madam now condemn'd to hack
The rest of life with anxious Jack,
Perceiving others fairly flown,
Attempted pleasing him alone.
Jack soon was dazzled to behold
Her present face surpass the old;
With modesty her cheeks are dy'd,
Humility displaces pride;
For tawdry finery, is seen
A person ever neatly clean:
No more presuming on her sway,
She learns good-nature every day;
Serenely gay, and strict in duty,
Jack finds his wi a perfect beauty.

31

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THE HERMIT.

Around in sympathetic mirth 1765.

Its tricks the kitten tries;

The cricket chirrups in the hearth; “ Turn, gentle hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way,

The crackling faggot flies. To where yon taper cheers the vale

But nothing could a charm impart With hospitable ray.

To soothe the stranger's woe; “ For here forlorn and lost I tread,

For grief was heavy at his heart, With fainting steps and slow:

And tears began to flow. Where wilds immeasurably spread,

His rising cares the hermit spy'd, Seem length’ning as I go."

With answering care opprest: “ Forbear, my son,” the hermit cries,

“ And whence, unhappy youth,” he cry'd, “ To tempt the dangerous gloom;

“ The sorrows of thy breast? For yonder faithless phantom fies

« From better habitations spurn’d, To lure thee to thy doom.

Reluctant dost thou rove: “ Here to the houseless child of want

Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,

Or unregarded love?
And though my portion is but scant,
I give it with good will.

6 Alas! the joys that fortune brings,

Are trifling, and decay; “ Then turn to-night, and freely share

And those who prize the paltry things,
Whate'er my cell bestows;

More trifling still than they.
My rushy couch and frugal fare,
My blessing and repose.

“ And what is friendship but a name,

A charm that lulls to sleep; “ No flocks that range the valley free,

A shade that follows wealth or fame,
To slaughter I condemn:

And leaves the wretch to weep?
Taught by that power which pities me,
I learn to pity them :

« And love is still an emptier sound,

The modern fair-one's jest: “ But from the mountain's grassy

side

On earth unseen, or only found
A guiltless feast I bring ;

To warm the turtle's nest.
A scrip with herbs and fruits supply'd,
And water from the spring.

“ For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush,

And spurn the sex," he said: “ Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;

But while he spoke, a rising blush All earth-born cares are wrong:

His love-lorn guest betray'd. Man wants but little here below,

Surpris'd he sees new beauties rise, Nor wants that little long."

Swift mantling to the view; Soft as the dew from heaven descends,

Like colours o'er the morning skies,

As bright, as transient too. The modest stranger lowly bends,

The bashful look, the rising breast,

Alternate spread alarms:
The lovely stranger stands confest,

A maid in all her charms.
“ And, ah, forgive a stranger rude,

A wretch forlorn," she cry'd;
“Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude,

Where heaven and you reside.
“ But let a maid thy pity share,

Whom love has taught to stray;
Who seeks for rest, but finds despair

Companion of her way.
“ My father liv'd beside the Tyne,

A wealthy lord was he;
And all his wealth was mark'd as mine,

He had but only me.
“ To win me from his tender arms,

Unnumber'd suitors came;

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His gentle accents fell!

And follows to the cell.

Lord

Far in a wilderness obscure

The lonely mansion lay;
A refuge to the neighb'ring poor,

And strangers led astray.

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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 evening rest,
The hermit trimm'd his little fire,

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

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

The lingering hours beguild.

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Bit me,

10. GOLDSMITH.)
Who prais'd me for imputed charms,

Against the houseless stranger shuts the door;
And felt, or feign'd a flame.

Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies,

A weary waste expanding to the skies; “ Each hour a mercenary crowd

Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
With richest proffers strove:

My heart untravellid fondly turns to thee:
Among the rest young Edwin bow'd,

Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain, But never talk'd of love.

And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. “ In humble, simplest habit clad,

Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, No wealth or power had he;

And round his dwelling guardian saints attend; Wisdom and worth were all he had,

Blest be that spot, where cheerful guests retire But these were all to me.

from toil, and trim their evening fire;

Blest that abode, where want and pain repair, “ The blossom opening to the day,

And every stranger finds a ready chair;
The dews of heaven refin'd,

Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd, Could nought of purity display,

Where all the ruddy family around
To emulate his mind.

Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, * The dew, the blossoms of the tree,

Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale;
With charms inconstant shine;

Or

press the bashful stranger to his food, Their charms were his, but woe to me,

And learn the luxury of doing good.
Their constancy was mine.

not destin'd such delights to share“ For still I try'd each fickle art,

My prime of life in wandering spent and careImportunate and vain :

Impellid, with steps unceasing, to pursue And while his passion touch'd my heart,

Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view; I triumph'd in his pain.

That, like the circle bounding earth and skies,

Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies; “ Till quite dejected with my scorn,

My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
He left me to my pride;

And find no spot of all the world my own.
And sought a solitude forlorn

Ev'n now, where Alpine solitudes ascend,
In secret, where he dy'd.

I sit me down a pensive hour to spend; “But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,

And, plac'd on high above the storm's career, And well my life shall pay;

Look downward where an hundred realms appear: I'll seek the solitude he sought,

Lakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide, And stretch me where he lay.

The

pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride. "And there forlorn, despairing, hid,

When thus creation's charms around combine, I'll lay me down and die;

Amidst the store should thankless pride repine ? 'Twas so for me that Edwin did,

Say, should the philosophic mind disdain And so for him will I."

That good which makes each humbler bosom vain?

Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can, " Forbid it, heaven!” the hermit cry'd,

These little things are great to little man;
And clasp'd her to his breast:

And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind
The wondering fair-one turn’d to chide-

Exults in all the good of all mankind. (crown'd; 'Twas Edwin's self that prest.

Ye glittering towns, with wealth and splendour * Turn, Angelina, ever dear,

Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round; My charmer, turn to see

Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale; Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here,

Ye bending swains, that dress the flowery vale; Restor'd to love and thee.

For me your tributary stores combine: “ Thus let me hold thee to my heart,

Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine. And ev'ry care resign:

As some lone miser, visiting his store, And shall we never, never part,

Bends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er;

Hoards after hoard's his rising raptures fill, My life—my all that's mine?

Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still: “No, never, from this hour to part,

Thus to my breast alternate passions rise, We'll live and love so true,

Pleas'd with each good that Heav'n to man supplies: The sigh that sends thy constant heart, Y

Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall,
Shall break thy Edwin's too."

To see the hoard of human bliss so small;
And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find

Some spot to real happiness consign'd,
THE TRAVELLER;

Where my worn soul, each wandering hope at rest,
OR, A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY. 1765.

May gather bliss to see my fellows blest. Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow,

But where to find that happiest spot below, Or by the lazy Scheld, or wandering Po;

Who can direct, when all pretend to know?

The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor

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