Зображення сторінки
PDF
ePub

Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last falt'ring accents whisper'd praise.

At church with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway;
And fools who came to fcoff, remain'd to pray.
The fervice past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal each honeft rustic ran;
E'en children follow'd with endearing wile,
And pluck'd his gown, to fhare the good man's fmile,
His ready fmile a parent's warmth exprefs'd;
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares diftrefs'd.
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were giv'n ;
But all his ferious thoughts had reft in heav'n;
As fome tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the ftorm,
Tho' round its breaft the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal funfhine fettles on his head.

Befide yon ftraggling fence that skirts the way, With bloffom furze unprofitably gay, There in his noisy mansion skill'd to rule, The village mafter taught his little school. A man fevere he was, and ftern to view; I knew him well, and every truant knew. Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace The day's difafters in his morning face; Full well they laugh'd, with counterfeited glee, At all his jokes, for many a joke had he; Full well the bafy whisper circling round Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd. Yet he was kind; or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault. The village all declar'd how much he knew ; 'Twas certain he could write and cypher too! Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage ; And e'en the story ran, that he could guage. In arguing too the parfon own'd his kill, For e'en tho' vanquish'd, he could argue still; While words of learned length, and thund'ring found, Amaz'd the gazing ruftics rang'd around; And ftill they gazʼd, and still the wonder grew, That one small head could carry all he knew. But paft is all his fame: the very fpot, Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot.

SECTION IV.

The deferted village continued.

NEAR yonder thorn that lifts its head on high,
Where once the fign-poft caught the paffing eye,
Now lies that houfe where nut-brown draughts infpir'd,
Where grey-beard mirth and fmiling toil retir'd,
Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound,
And news much older than their ale went round.
Imagination fondly ftoops to trace

The parlour splendours of that feftive place;
The white-wafh'd wall, the nicely fanded floor,
The varnifh'd clock that click'd behind the door;
The cheft contriv'd a double debt to pay,
A bed by night, a cheft of drawers by day;
The pictures plac'd for ornament and use,
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goofe;
The hearth, except when winter chill'd the day,
With afpen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay;
While broken tea-cups, wifely kept for fhow,
Rang'd o'er the chimney, gliften in a row.

Vain tranfitory fplendour! could not all
Retrieve the tott'ring manfion from its fall?
Obfcure it finks, nor fhall it more impart
An hour's importance to the poor man's heart;
Thither no more the peasant fhall repair
To fweet oblivion of his daily care;

No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,
No more the woodman's ballad fhall prevail;
No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,
Relax his pond'rous ftrength, and lean to hear;
The hoft himself no longer fhall be found
Careful to fee the mantling blifs go round.

Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain,
Thefe fimple pleafures 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 foul adopts, and owns their first-born sway;
Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind,
Unenvied, unmolefted, unconfin'd;

But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,
With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd,
In thefe, ere triflers half their with obtain,
The toiling pleasure fickens into pain;

T

And, e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
The heart, diftrufting, asks if this be joy?
Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey
The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay,
'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits ftand,
Between a fplendid and a happy land.
Proud fwells the tide with loads of freighted ore,
And fhouting folly hails them from her fhore;
Hoards, e'en beyond the miser's wish, abound,
And rich men flock from all the world around;
Yet count our gains; this wealth is but a name
That leaves our useful product ftill the fame.
Not fo the lofs: the man of wealth and pride
Takes up a space that many poor supply'd ;
Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds,
Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds:
The robe that wraps his limbs in filken floth
Has robb'd the neighbouring fields of half their growth;
His feat, where folitary sports are feen,
Indignant spurns the cottage from the green.
Around the world each needful product flies,
For all the luxuries the world fupplies :
While thus the land adorn'd for pleasure all,
In barren fplendour feebly waits the fall.
As fome fair female, unadorn'd and plain,
Secure to pleafe while youth confirms her reign,
Slights ev'ry borrow'd charm that dress supplies,
Nor fhares 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 fhines forth, folicitous to blefs,
In all the glaring impotence of dress ;
Thus fares the land, by luxury betray'd,
In nature's simpleft charms at first array'd;
But verging to decline, its fplendours rise,
Its viftas ftrike. its palaces furprise ;
While, fcourg'd by famine from the smiling land,
The mournful peafant leads his humble band;
And while he finks without one arm to fave,
The country blooms-a garden and a grave!
Where then, ah where, fhall poverty refide,
To 'scape the preffure of contiguous pride?
If, to fome common fenceless limits ftray'd,
He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade,

Thofe fenceless fields the fons of wealth divide,
And e'en the bare-worn common is denied.
If to the city fped-what waits him there?
To fee profufion that he must not share ;
To fee ten thousand baneful arts combin'd
To pamper luxury, and thin mankind;
To fee each joy the fons of pleasure know,
Extorted from his fellow creature's wo.
Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade,
There the pale artist plies the fickly trade:
Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomps display,
There the black gibbet glooms befide the way.
The dome where pleasure holds her midnight reign
Here, richly deck'd, admits the gorgeous train;
Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing fquare,
The rattling chariots clafh, the torches glare-
Sure fcenes like thefe no troubles e'er annoy ! -
Sure these denote one universal joy !

Are these thy ferious thoughts? Ah, turn thine eyes
Where the poor houseless shivering female lies.
She, once, perhaps, in village plenty bleft,.
Has wept at tales of innocence diftreft :
Her modeft looks the cottage might adorn,
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn:
Now loft to all; her friends, her virtue fled,
Near her betrayer's door fhe lays her head;
And pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the shower,
With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,
When idly firft, ambitious of the town,

She left her wheel, and robes of country brown.
Do thine, fweet Auburn, thine, the lovelieft 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 diftant climes, a dreary scene,
Where half the convex world intrudes between,
Through horrid tracts with fainting steps they go,
Where wild Altama murmurs to their wo.

Far different there from all that charm'd before,
The various terrors of that horrid fhore ;
Those blazing funs that dart a downward ray,
And fiercely fhed intolerable day;

Those matted woods where birds forget to fing,
But filent bats in drowsy clusters cling;

Thofe poif nous fields with rank luxuriance crown'd,
Where the dark fcorpion gathers death around;
Where at each step the ftranger fears to wake
The rattling terrors of the vengeful fnake;
Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey:
And favage men, more murd'rous still than they ;
While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies,
Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies.

Alas! what forrows gloom'd that parting day,
That call them from their native walks away;
When the poor exiles, every pleasure past,
Hung round the bowers, and fondly look'd their laft,
And took a long farewell, and wifh'd in vain
For feats like thefe beyond the western main ;
And fhuddering ftill to face the diftant deep,
Return'd and wept, and still return'd to weep!
The good old fire the firft prepar'd to go
To new-found worlds, and wept for others' wo:
But for himself, in conscious virtue brave,
He only wifh'd for worlds beyond the grave.
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears,
The fond companion of his hapless yeats,
Silent went next, neglectful of her charrns,
And left a lover's for a father's arms.

With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes,
And blefs'd the cot where every pleasure rofe;
And kits'd her thoughtless babes with many a tear,
And clafp'd them close in forrow doubly dear ;
Whilft her fond husband ftrove to lend relief,
In all the filent manlinefs of grief.

O luxury thou curft by Heav'n's decree,
How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee!
How do thy potions, with infidious joy,
Diffuse their pleafures only to destroy !
Kingdoms, by thee to fickly greatness grown,
Boast of a florid vigour not their own,

At every draught more large and large they grow,
A bloated mafs of rank unwieldy wo;

Till fap'd their ftrength, and ev'ry part unfound,
Down, down they fink, and spread a ruin round.
E'en now the devastation is begun,

And half the bus'nefs of deftruction done;
E'en now, methinks, as pondering here I stand,
I fee the rural virtues leave the land.

« НазадПродовжити »