11. While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont, 12. While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves, And rudely rends thy robes: 13. So long, sure found beneath the sylvan shed, And hymn thy favourite name. William Shenstone: 1714-1763. My banks they are furnished with bees, And my hills are white over with sheep. Such health do my fountains bestow; Not a pine in my grove is there seen, But a sweetbrier entwines it around. 3. One would think she might like to retire To prune the wild branches away. 4. From the plains, from the woodlands, and groves, How the nightingales warble their loves, In a concert so soft and so clear, N Oliver Goldsmith: 1728-1774. From The Deserted Village.' Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain; And parting Summer's lingering blooms delayed: Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please; 5 Where humble happiness endeared each scene! How often have I paused on every charm: The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, 10 The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topped the neighbouring hill; The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, And sleights of art and feats of strength went round; And still as each repeated pleasure tired, Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired The dancing pair that simply sought renown, 25 By holding out to tire each other down; While secret laughter tittered round the place; The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love; The matron's glance, that would those looks reprove: 30 These were thy charms, sweet village: sports like these, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall; And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, 50 Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close, There, as I passed with careless steps and slow, 55 60 The playful children just let loose from school; The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind; 65 And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind: Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden-flower grows wild, There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 80 A man he was to all the country dear, 5 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; Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour; 10 Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, More bent to raise the wretched than to rise. He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain: The long-remembered beggar was his guest, 15 Whose beard descending swept his aged breast; Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed; Sat by his fire, and talked the night away; 20 Shouldered his crutch, and shewed how fields were won. Careless their merits or their faults to scan, 25 Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And even his failings leaned to virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt, for all : 30 To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, Beside the bed where parting life was laid, At church, with meek and unaffected grace, 35 40 45 With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran; Even children followed, with endearing wile, And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile: His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed; Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed: 50 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, The Poor compelled to Emigrate. To distant climes, a dreary scene, Where half the convex world intrudes between, Far different there from all that charmed before, Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray, Those matted woods where birds forget to sing, But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling; 10 Those poisonous fields, with rank luxuriance crowned, Where the dark scorpion gathers death around; Where at each step the stranger fears to wake The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake; 15 20 |