8. But now the sounds of population fail,
No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale,
No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,
But all the bloomy flush of life is fled :
All but yon widowed, solitary thing,

That feebly bends beside the plashy spring :
She, wretched matron, forced in age, for bread,
To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,
To pick her wintry fagot from the thorn,
To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn—
She only left of all the harmless train,

The sad historian of the pensive plain.

EAR yonder copse, where dncerthe garden smiled And stilbwhere many a garden flower grows wild, There, where [al few torn shrubs the place (disclosé;„T The village preacher's modest mansionɑrose,eloot baA A man he was to all the countrydeartasq 99ivr92 edT And passing, rich with forety pounds al year cota di Remote from toynis had ran his godly[race,prblidɔ aɔ'I Noireder had bhanged, nor wished to change, his place. Unskillful heto fawho seek for powerima уber ai Hyo doctrines fashioned to the varying hour to redT Far atheg aims his heart had dearned to prizement oT More bent to raise the wretched than to rised Is tuæ 2. His house was on din toallathe Nigrant trainɑmoz aA Heschidetheir wanderings; but relieved their phil,w2 The long remembered beggart was his ghesty doodT Whose beard, desdending; swept his aged breast The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, bias¶ .ð Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed; // The broken soldier, kindly bude to stay aid ai Sat by his fire and talked the night away epelliv edT Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow doneam A Shouldered his arutah, and showed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their wee5 aych odT

T

Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
His pity gave ere charity began.

3. Thus, to relieve the wretched was his pride,
And e'en 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
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed,
The reverend champion stood. At his control,
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
4. At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorned the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.
The service past, around the pious man,
With steady zeal, each honèst rustic ran ;
E'en 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 :
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,

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

5. Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,
There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule,
The village master taught his little school :
A man severe he was, and stern to view :
I knew him well, and every truant knew ;
Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face;

Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee At all his jokes, for many a joke had he; Full well the busy whisper, circling round, Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned. 6. Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, The love he bōre to learning was in fault; The village all declared how much he knew— "Twas certain he could write, and cipher too; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presăge, And e'en the story ran that he could gauge. In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill, For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still ; While words of learned length and thundering sound Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around; And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, That one small head could carry all he knew. But past is all his fame. The very spot Where many a time he triumphed is forgot.

7. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high,

Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye,
Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired,
Where graybeard mirth and smiling toil retired,
Where village statesmen talked with looks profound,
And news much older than their ale went round.
Imagination fondly stops to trace

The parlor splendors of that festive place;
The white-washed wall, the nicely-sanded floor,
The varnished clock that clicked behind the door ;
The chest, contrived a double debt to pay,
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day;
The pictures placed for ornament and use,
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose;
The hearth, except when winter chilled the day,
With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay;
While broken teacups, wisely kept for show,
Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row.
8. Vain, transitory splendors! could not all
Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall?
Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart
An hour's importance to the poor man's heart;

Thither no more the peasant shall repair
To sweet oblivion of his daily care;

No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,
No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail;
No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,
Relax his ponderous strength, and learn to hear;
The host himself no longer shall be found

Careful to see the mantling bliss go round; 199 26T Nor the coy maid, half willing to be presseded abs. I Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the reste odt ne'e baА 9. Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disaini

These Simple Blessings of the Hwy thawod no'o 'T bread, ongemar to my near abrow olid W One native chai than all the glossed bossmA Spontaneous joys, where mathre he is my lita baA play, The soul adopts, and owns their first-borne way T Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mais aitas tua Unenvied, unmolestea, munkadamit synem red But the long pomp, the midnight masqueradepy With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayedp 919dW beIn these deres triflers half their wishe obtaindt asil woI. The toiling pleasure sickens into painedyer er Anduet while fashion's brightest arts decoy ered The Heart, distrusting; asks if this be joy awen boA oosit of aqota ylbaot noitsaigemI

; evitast to erobпelqa olisq edT 100 bebas-vlogin edt Hey bedasy-otidw edT 49 THE DESERTED VILLAGE.. Toob en bat 015 bonairev edT yaq of tɗPART THIRDS Dovituoted

T

yeb yd roerb to todo stdin vd bed A E friends to truth, ye statesmen, who

Hoards e'en beyond the mise a misV .8

And rich, men flock from all the world around, sige
found pres
Yet count our gains. This

Jsem Tom is wealth is
this but a name ado

That leaves our useful products still the same.

TIRE & HEM TO SI O Sarod aA

Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride
Takes up a space that many poor supplied;
Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds,
Space for his horses, eq'uipage, and hounds;
The robe that wraps his limbs in silken slōth

Has robbed the neighboring fields of half their growth;
His seat, where solitary sports are seen,

Indignant spurns the cottage from the green;
Around the world each needful product flies,
For all the luxuries the world supplies,
While thus the land, adorned for pleasure all,
In barren splendor feebly waits the fall.

2. As some fair female, unadorned and plain,

Secure to please while youth confirms her reign,
Slights every borrowed charm that dress supplies,
Nor shares 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 shines forth, solicitous to bless,
In all the glaring impotence of dress;—
Thus fares the land by luxury betrayed,
In nature's simplèst charms at first arrayed;
But, verging to decline, its splendors rise,
Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise;
While, scourged by famine from the smiling land,
The mournful peasant leads his humble band;
And while he sinks, without one arm to save,
The country blooms—a garden and a grave.
3. Where, then, ah! where shall Poverty reside,
To escape the pressure of contiguous Pride?
If to some common's fencelèss limits strayed,
He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade,
Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide,
And e'en the bare-worn common is denied.
If to the city sped-what waits him there?
To see profusion that he must not share ;
To see ten thousand baneful arts combined
To pamper luxury and thin mankind;

To see each joy the sons of Pleasure know
Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe.