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The breezy covert of the warbling grove,
Good Heaven! what sorrows gloom'd that part
ing day That call'd them from their native walks away ; When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, Hung round the bowers, and fondly look'd their
last, And took a long farewell, and wish'd in vain For seats like these beyond the western main ; And, shuddering still to face the distant deep, Return’d and wept, and still return'd to weep! 21 The good old sire the first prepar'd to go To new-found worlds, and wept for others' woe; But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave.
19 That only)
• Thy shady groves Only relieve the heats, and cover loves, Sheltering no other thefts or cruelties.'
v. Nicholls' Poems, ii. 80. • Often in amorous thefts of lawless love!'
V. Nicholls' Poems, ii. 278. 20 Compare Quinctiliani Declam. xiii. p. 272. "Quod cives pascebat, nunc divitis unius hortus est. Æquatæ solo villæ, et excisa patria sacra, et cum conjugibus, parvisque liberis, respectantes patrium larem migraverunt veteres coloni,' &c. 21 good old sire] The good old sire!'
v. Dryden's Ovid, vol. iii. p. 302. And, The good old sire, unconscious of decay! The modest matron clad in homespun gray.'
v Threnod. August,
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears,
O Luxury! thou curst by Heaven's decree, How ill exchang’d are things like these for thee! How do thy potions, with insidious joy, Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy! Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, Boast of a florid vigour not their own. At every draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe; Till sapp'd their strength, and every part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.
Even now the devastation is begun, And half the business of destruction done; Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, I see the rural virtues leave the land. Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail That idly waiting flaps with every gale, Downward they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand.
Contented toil, and hospitable care,
rage Teach him, that states of native strength possest, Though very poor, may still be very blest; That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, As ocean sweeps the labour'd mole away;
22 The river Tornea falls into the Gulf of Bothnia. Pam bamarca is a mountain near Quito.-P. C.
While self-dependent power can time defy,
23 “ Dr. Johnson favoured me at the same time by marking the lines which he furnished to Goldsmith's Deserted Village, which are only the last four.” Boswell, by Croker, p. 174.P. C.
EDWIN AND ANGELINA.
" Written 1764, and privately printed the same year, 'for the amusement of the Countess of Northumberland, -and first, published in 1766, in The Vicar of Wakefield, vol. i. pp. 70–77. The text here given is that of The Vicar of Wakefield, compared with the poem as printed by Goldsmith in 1767, in his Poems for Young Ladies, and the edition of Goldsmith's Miscellaneous Works, published in 1801, under the unacknowledged superintendence of Bishop Perry."-CUNNING