With ftore of fweetmeats rang'd in order;
And potted nothings on the border:
While falves and caudle-cups between,
With fqualling children, close the scene!

SECT.

RIVAL BEAUTIES.

LXII.

ETERNAL

THE WISH.

*

TERNAL bleffings crown my earlieft friend,
And round his dwelling guardian faints attend;

Bleft be that spot, where cheerful guests retire
To paufe from toil, and trim their evening fire;
Bleft that abode, where want and pain repair,
And every ftranger finds a ready chair;

Bleft be those feasts where mirth and peace abound,
Where all the ruddy family around

Laugh at the jefts or pranks that never fail,

Or figh with pity at fome mournful tale,
Or press the bashful stranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good.

But me, not deftin'd fuch delights to share,
My prime of life in wand'ring spent and care!
Impell'd with steps unceafing, to purfue

Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view
That, like the circle bounding earth and skies,
Allures from far, yet as I follow, flies ;

*The Author's brother.

F5

My

My fortune leads to traverfe realms alone,
And find no spot of all the world my own.

DR. GOLDSMITH.

SECT. LXIII.

ON THE ITALIANS AND DUTCH.

'OULD Nature's bounty fatisfy the breast,
The fons of Italy were furely bleft.
Whatever fruits in different climes are found,
That proudly rife or humbly court the ground;
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear,
Whose bright fucceffion decks the varied year;
Whatever sweets falute the northern sky
With vernal lives, that bloffom but to die;
These here difporting own the kindred foil,
Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil;
While fea-born gales their gelid wings expand
To winnow fragrance round the smiling land.
But small the bliss that fenfe alone bestows,
And fenfual blifs is all this nation knows!
In florid beauty groves and fields appear,
Men feem the only growth that dwindles here.
Contrafted faults through all their manners reign,
Though poor, luxurious; though fubmiffive, vain
Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue;
And even in penance planning fins anew.

To men of other minds my fancy flies,
Embofom'd in the deep where Holland lies;
Methinks her patient fons before me stand,
Where the broad ocean leans against the land,

And, fedulous to ftop the coming tide,
Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride.
Onward methinks, and diligently flow,
The firm connected bulwark feems to go;
Spreads its long arms amidst the watʼry roar,
Scoops out an empire, and ufurps the shore :
While the pent Ocean, rifing o'er the pile,
Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile;
The flow canal, the yellow bloffom'd vale,
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding fail,
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,
A new creation rescu'd from his reign.

DR. GOLDSMITH.

SE C T. LXIV.

ON THE HARD FATE OF THE INDIGENT.

WHERE then, ah, where fhall poverty refide,

To 'scape the preffure of contiguous pride?
If to fome common's fencelefs limits stray'd,
He drives his flock to pick the fcanty blade,
Thofe fencelefs fields the fons of wealth divide,
And even the bare-worn common is deny'd.
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-creatures' woe.
Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade,
There the pale artift plies the fickly trade;
F 6

Here,

;

Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomp difplay,
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 clash, the torches glare:
Sure fcenes like these no troubles e'er annoy!
Sure thefe denote one univerfal joy!

Are these thy serious thoughts?—Ah, turn thine

eyes,

`Where the poor houseless shiv'ring female lies;
She once, perhaps, in village plenty bleft,
Has wept at tales of innocence distrest;
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 fhrinking from the fhow'r,
With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,
When idly firft, ambitious of the town,

She left her wheel, and robes of country brown.

DR. GOLDSMITH.

SE C T. LXV.

A PATHETIC DESCRIPTION OF THE BRITISH EMI GRANTS, WHEN LEAVING THEIR NATIVE COUNTRY, AND PREPARING TO EMBARK FOR AMERICA.

GOOD

OOD Heaven! what forrows gloom'd that parting day,

That call'd them from their native walks away;

When

When the poor exiles, every pleasure past,

Hung round their bowers, and fondly look'd their last,
And took a long farewel, and wifh'd in vain,
For feats like these beyond the western main;
And, fhudd'ring ftill to face the diftant deep,
Return'd and wept, and ftill return'd to weep!
The good old fire, who first prepar'd to go
To new-found worlds, and wept for others woe,
But for himself, in confcious virtue brave,
He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave.
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears,
The fond companion of his helplefs years,
Silent went next, neglectful of her charms,
And left a lover's for her father's arms.

With loudest plaints the mother spoke her woes,
And blefs'd the cot where every pleasure rose ;
And kifs'd her thoughtless babes with many a tear,
And clafp'd them clofe, in forrow doubly dear;
While her fond husband ftrove to lend relief
In all the decent manliness of grief.

O Luxury! Thou curft by Heaven's decree,
How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee!
How do thy potions with infidious joy,
Diffuse their pleasures only to deftroy!
Kingdoms by thee to fickly greatness grown,
Boaft of a florid vigour not their own.

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

Till fapp'd their ftrength, and every part unfound,
Down, down they fink, and fpread a ruin round.
Even now the devastation is begun,

And half the business of deftruction done;

Even