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BORN 1728.
DIED 1774.

PRINCIPAL WRITINGS:-The Traveller ; The Deserted Village;

Edwin and Angelina; She Stoops to Conquer; The Vicar of
Wakefield; The Citizen of the World; Histories of England,
Greece, and Rome; Animated Nature.

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WEET Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring

swain, Where smiling Spring its earliest visit paid, And parting Summer's lingering blooms delay'd ; Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endear'd each scene! How often have I paused on every charm, The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm, The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topp'd the neighb'ring


* AUBURN.- Goldsmith describes Lissoy, in Ireland, under this name,

7“ The Deserted Village” (perhaps one of the most favourite poems in the English language) describes the happy condition of a country village in the olden time, and laments the changes which have since taken place.

The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the

shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made! How often have I bless'd the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading

tree ! While many a pastimè circled in the shade, The young contending as the old survey'd; And many a gambol frolick'd 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, By holding out to tire each other down; The swain, mistrustless of his smutted face, While secret laughter titter'd round the place ; The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love, The matron's glance that would those looks

reprove : These were thy charms, sweet village! sports like

these With sweet succession taught e'en toil to please : These round thy bowers their cheerful influence

shed, These were thy charms—but all these charms are fled.

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The Village Preacher


(From The Deserted Village.")

PEAR yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden fluwer grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, 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 fashion'd to the varying hour ; Far other aims his heart had learnt to prize, More bent to raise the wretched than to rise. His house was known to all the vagrant train, He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain ; The long-remember'd beggar was his guest, Whose beard descending swept his aged breast; The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd ; The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away ; Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, Shoulder'd his crutch, and showed how fields were


Pleased with nis guests, the good man learn’d to

And quite forgot their vices in their woe ;
Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
His pity gave ere charity began.

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
And e’en his failings lean'd to virtue's side ;
But in his duty prompt at every call,
He watch'd and wept, he pray'd 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.

the Village Schoolmaster .

(From The Deserted Village.")

ESIDE yon straggling fence, that skirts the way With blossom'd 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.
Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught,
The love he bore 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 presage,
And e'en the story ran, that he could-gauge.
In arguing too, the parson own'd his skill,
For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still;
While words of learned length and thundering

Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around;
And still they gazed; and still the wonder grew,
That one small head--could carry all he knew.

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Y soul, turn from them ; turn we to survey, Where rougher climes a nobler race display. Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansion tread, And force a churlish soil for scanty bread: No product here the barren hills afford, But man and steel, the soldier and his sword. No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, But winter, lingering, chills the lap of May;

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