Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

But now the clouds in airy tumult fly;
The sun emerging opes an azure sky;
A fresher green the smelling leaves dis-
play,

And, glittering as they tremble, cheer the day;

The weather courts them from the poor

retreat,

And the glad master bolts the wary gate.

While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bosom wrought

With all the travail of uncertain thought; His partner's acts without their cause. appear,

'Twas there a vice, and seem'd a mad

ness here:

Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes, Lost and confounded with the various shows.

Now night's dim shades again involve the sky,

Again the wanderers want a place to lie,

Again they search, and find a lodging nigh:

The soil improv'd around, the mansion neat,

And neither poorly low, nor idly great: It seem'd to speak its master's turn of mind,

*Content, and not for praise, but virtue kind.

Hither the walkers turn with weary feet,

Then bless the mansion, and the master greet:

Their greeting fair bestow'd, with modest guise,

The courteous master hears, and thus replies:

"Without a vain, without a grudging heart,

To him who gives us all, I yield a part;

From him you come, for him accept it here,

A frank and sober, more than costly cheer."

He spoke, and bid the welcome table. spread,

Then talk'd of virtue till the time of bed,

When the grave household round his hall repair,

Warn'd by a bell, and close the hours with prayer.

At length the world, renew'd by calm repose,

Was strong for toil, the dappled morn

arose.

Before the pilgrims part, the younger

crept

Near the clos'd cradle where an infant slept,

And writh'd his neck: the landlord's little pride,

O strange return! grew black, and gasp'd, and died.

Horror of horrors! what! his only son! How look'd our hermit when the fact was done?

Not hell, though hell's black jaws in sunder part,

And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart.

Confus'd, and struck with silence at the deed,

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

"The mean, suspicious wretch, whose bolted door

Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wandering poor;

With him I left the cup, to teach his mind

That Heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind.

Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl,

And feels compassion touch his grateful soul.

Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, With heaping coals of fire upon its head;

In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow,

And loose from dross, the silver runs below.

"Long had our pious friend in virtue trod,

But now the child half-wean'd his heart from God;

Child of his age, for him he liv'd in pain,

And measur'd back his steps to earth again.

To what excesses had this dotage run! But God, to save the father, took the

son.

To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow.

The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust,

Now owns in tears the punishment was just.

"But how had all his fortune felt a wrack,

Had that false servant sped in safety back!

This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal,

And what a fund of charity would fail!

"Thus Heaven instructs thy mind: this

trial o'er, Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more."

On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew,

The sage stood wondering as the seraph flew.

Thus look'd Elisha, when, to mount on high,

His master took the chariot of the sky;

The fiery pomp ascending left the view;

The prophet gaz'd, and wish'd to follow

too.

The bending hermit here a prayer begun, "Lord! as in heaven, on earth thy will be done!"

Then gladly turning, sought his ancient place,

And pass'd a life of piety and peace.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

[ocr errors]

[Oliver Goldsmith was born at Pallas, County Longford, on the 10th of November, 1728. When a boy an attack of small-pox nearly cost him his life, and left his face cruelly pitted. In 1745 he entered Trinity College, Dublin, as a servitor, his father's means not allowing him any higher position. His college life terminated in 1749, when he received the degree of Bachelor of Arts. The story of his life is well known; his wanderings at home and abroad, his misfortunes and privations, are familiar to most readers. His principal works are: a "History of England," declared to be "the most finished and elegant summary of English history in the same compass that has been or is likely to be written;" The Vicar of Wakefield," a charming novel; "The Traveller," which Johnson declared to be "a poem to which it would not be easy to find anything equal since the death of Pope;"" History of the Earth and Animated Nature," which was a great success; "The Deserted Village," one of the sweetest poems of the kind in the English language; "The Citizen of the World," a series of one hundred and twenty-three essays, or sketches, in which he exposed, very clearly, the evils of society; "History of Greece," History of Rome," and two favorite comedies-"The Good-Natured Man," and "She Stoops to Conquer." Mr. Goldsmith died in London on the 4th of April, 1774, in the 46th year of his age.]

66

LETTER FROM GOLDSMITH TO HIS

MOTHER.

TO MRS. ANNE GOLDSMITH, BALLYMAHON, 1751.

MY DEAR MOTHER,

If you will sit down and calmly listen to what I say, you shall be fully resolved in every one of those many questions you have asked me. I went to Cork and converted my horse, which you

prize so much higher than Fiddleback, into cash, took my passage in a ship bound for America, and, at the same time, paid the captain for my freight and all the other expenses of my voyage. But it so happened that the wind did not answer for three weeks; and you know, mother, that I could not command the elements. My misfortune was that when the wind served I happened to be with a party in the country, and my friend the captain never inquired after me, but set sail with as much indifference as if I had been on board. The remainder of my time I employed in the city and its environs, viewing everything curious; and you know no one can starve while he has money in his pocket.

Reduced, however, to my last two guineas, I began to think of my dear mother and friends whom I had left behind me, and so bought that generous beast Fiddleback, and made adieu to Cork with only five shillings in my pocket. This to be sure was but a scanty allowance for man and horse towards a journey of above a hundred miles; but I did not despair, for I knew I must find friends on the road.

« AnteriorContinuar »