{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3254", "width": "1868", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "Class.\\nTT?g4\\nBook", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "THE POETICAL WORKS\\nOF\\nDR. GOLDSMITH.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "THE POETICAL WORKS\\nOF\\nOLFVtlR GOLDSMITH, M. B.\\nWITH AN ACCOUNT\\nHIS LIFE AND WRITINGS.\\nPHILADELPHIA:\\nUBLISHED BY ROBERT JOHNSON, NO. 2, NORTH\\nTHIRD STREET.\\nII. MAXWELL, PRINTER.\\n1803.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "1H", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS.\\nPage\\nACCOUNT of the Life and Writings of the\\nAuthor vii\\nhe Traveller, a Poem 3\\nl/ he Deserted Village, a Poem 33\\ny/ Tie Haunch of Venison, a Poetical Epistle 61\\netaliation, a Poem 71\\nv Letter addressed to the Printer of the St.\\nJames s Chronicle 89\\n.Tie Hermit, a Ballad 91\\nhe Double Transformation, a Tale... 103\\nhe Gift 109\\nTie Logicians refuted Ill\\n)n a beautiful Youth struck blind by Lightning... 115\\nI new Simile, in the manner of Swift 116\\nilegy on the Death of a Mad Dog 120\\nThe Clown s Reply 123\\nitanzas on Woman 124\\nDescription of an Author s Bed-chamber 125\\ntfr. Boswell s Letter 127", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "VI CONTENTS.\\nSong 129\\nStanzas on the taking of Quebec 130\\nEpitaph on Dr. Parnell 131\\nEpitaph on Edward Purdon 132\\nElegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize 133\\nSonnet 135\\nSong, from the Oratorio of the Captivity 136\\nSong isr\\nPrologue, written and spoken by the Poet Labe-\\nrius 138\\nPrologue to Zobeide, a Tragedy 140\\nEpilogue* 143\\nEpilogue to the Sisters 146\\n1898.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "SOME ACCOUNT\\nOF\\nTHE LIFE AND WRITINGS\\nOLIVER GOLDSMITH, M. B.\\nOliver Goldsmith was the youngest of the\\nfour sons of the Rev. Charles Goldsmith, and was\\nborn the 29th of November, in the year 1731, at\\nFemes, in Ireland. Having passed some time in the\\nstudy of the classics, under the tuition of Mr. Hughes,\\non the 11th of June 1744 he was admitted a sizer in\\nTrinity college, Dublin.\\nHis genius, which afterwards broke forth with\\nsuch distinguished lustre, had not yet unfolded itself;\\nwe cannot find that, during his continuance at the\\nersity, he manifested such appearances of men-\\nsucn", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "Vlll LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH.\\ntal vigour as to entitle him to a pre-eminence over\\nthe generality of his fellow-students. In February\\n1749, however, which was two years after the regu-\\nlar course of those things, he obtained the degree of\\nBachelor of Arts.\\nHaving, while he remained in Dublin, turned his\\nthoughts to the profession of physic, and attended\\nsome courses of anatomy, in the year 1751 he visited\\nEdinburgh, and applied himself to the study of the\\ndifferent branches of medicine under the respective\\nprofessors in that university. His thoughtless though\\nbeneficent disposition soon involved him in difficul-\\nties. He had made himself responsible for the debt\\nof a fellow-student, who being either unable or un-\\nwilling to discharge it, Mr. Goldsmith was obliged\\nabruptly to leave Scotland, in order to avoid the hor-\\nrors of a prison.\\nIn the beginning of the year 1754 he arrived at\\nSunderland but being pursued by a legal process, on\\naccount of the debt we have just mentioned, he was\\narrested. At Edinburgh he had formed an intimacy\\nwith Mr. Lauchlin Maclaine and Dr. Sleigh, who\\nstill resided in the college at that place and these\\ngentlemen being informed of his unhappy situation,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH. IX\\npresently afterwards interposed, and set him at li-\\nberty.\\nThis embarrassment being surmounted, he em-\\nbarked on board a Dutch ship, and arrived at Rot-\\nterdam; whence he went to Brussels, then visited\\ngreat part of Flanders; and afterwards, at Stras-\\nbourg and Louvain, where he continued some time,\\nhe obtained the degree of Bachelor in Physic. From\\nthence he went to Geneva, in company with an Eng-\\nlish gentleman.\\nIt is a circumstance worth recording, that he had\\nso strong a propensity to see different countries, men\\nand manners, that even the necessity of walking on\\nfoot could not deter him from this favourite pursuit.\\nHis German flute, on which he played tolerably well,\\nfrequently supplied him with the means of subsist-\\nence, and his learning procured him a favourable\\nreception at most of the religious houses he visited.\\nHe himself tells us, that whenever he approached a\\npeasant s cottage, he played one of his most merry\\ntunes, and that generally procured him not only a\\nlodging, but subsistence for the next day. This, how-\\never, was not the case with the rich, who generally\\ndespised both the music and the performer.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "X LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH,\\nSoon after his arrival at Geneva, he met with a\\nyoung man, who, by the death of an uncle, was become\\npossessed of a considerable fortune, and to whom Mr.\\nGoldsmith was recommended for a travelling com-\\npanion As avarice was the prevailing principle of\\nthis young man, it cannot be supposed he was long\\npleased with his preceptor, whose habits and turn of\\nmind were so contrary to his own.\\nOur author, during his residence at the college of\\nEdinburgh, had given marks of his rising geniusfor poe-\\ntry, which Switzerland greatly contributed to bring to\\nmaturity. It was here he wrote the first sketch of his\\nTraveller, which he sent to his brother Henry, a\\nclergyman in Ireland, who, despising fame and for-\\ntune, had retired with an amiable wife, en an income\\nof only forty pounds per annum, to pass a life of hap-\\npiness and obscurity,\\nMr. Goldsmith and his pupil continued together\\nuntil they arrived at the south of France, where, on\\na disagreement, they parted, and our author was left\\nto struggle with all the difficulties that a man could\\nexperience, who was in a state of poverty, in a foreign\\ncountry, without friends. Yet, notwithstanding all his\\ndifficulties, his ardour for travelling was not abated;", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH. XI\\nand he persisted in his scheme, though he was fre-\\nquently obliged to be beholden to his flute and the pea-\\nsants. At length, his curiosity being gratified, he bent\\nhis course towards England, and arrived at Dover\\nabout the beginning of the Winter in 1758.\\nOn his arrival at London, his situation was by no\\nmeans enviable. It is true, that he brought with him\\na strong mind, plentifully stored with images; but\\nupon reviewing the state of his finances, he found\\nthem to consist of only a few half-pence. What must\\nbe the gloomy apprehensions of a man in so forlorn a\\nsituation, and an utter stranger in the metropolis He\\napplied to several apothecaries for employment but\\nhis awkward appearance, and his broad Irish accent,\\nwere so much against him, that he met only with ridi-\\ncule and contempt. At last, however, merely through\\nmotives of humanity, he was taken notice of by a chy-\\nmist, who employed him in his laboratory.\\nHe continued in this situation till he was informed\\nthat his old friend Dr. Sleigh was in London. He\\nthen quitted the chymist, and lived some time upon\\nthe liberality of the doctor but, disliking a life of de-\\npendence on the generosity of his friend, and being\\nunwilling to be burdensome to him, he soon accepted", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "Xll LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH.\\nan offer that was made him, of assisting the late Rev.\\nDr. Milner, in the education of young gentlemen at\\nhis academy at Peckham. During the time he re-\\nmained in this situation, he gave much satisfaction to\\nhis employer but as he had obtained some reputation\\nfrom criticisms he had wi itten in the Monthly Re vicAV,\\nhe eagerly engaged in the compilation of that work,\\nwith Mr. Griffiths, the principal proprietor. He\\naccordingly returned to London, took an obscure lodg-\\ning in Green- Arbour Court, in the Old Bailey, and\\ncommenced a professed author.\\nThis was in the year 1759, before the close of which\\nhe produced several works, particularly a periodical\\npublication, called The Bee, and An Enquiry into the\\npresent State of polite Learning in Europe. He also\\nbecame a writer in the Public Ledger, in which his\\nCitizen of the World originally appeared under the\\ntitle of Chinese Letters. His reputation extended so\\nrapidly, and his connections became so numerous, that\\nhe was soon enabled to emerge from his mean lodg-\\nings in the Old Bailey to the politer air in the Temple,\\nwhere he took chambers in 1762, and lived in a more\\ncreditable maimer. At length, his reputation was\\nfully established by the publication of The Traveller,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH. Xlll\\nin the year 1765. His Vicar of Wakefield succeeded\\nhis Traveller, and his History of England was followed\\nby the performance of his comedy of the Good-na-\\ntured Man, all which contributed to place him in the\\nfirst rank of the writers of his age.\\nThe Good-natured Man was acted at Covent-Gar-\\nden theatre in the year 1768. Many parts of this play\\nexhibit the strongest indications of our author s comic\\ntalents. There is perhaps no character on the stage\\nmore happily imagined, and more highly finished,\\nthan Croaker s; nor do we recollect so original and\\nsuccessful an incident, as that of the letter, which he\\nconceives to be the composition of the incendiary, and\\nfeels a thousand ridiculous horrors in consequence of\\nhis absurd apprehension. The audience, however,\\nhaving been just before exalted on the sentimental\\nstilts of False Delicacy, a comedy by Mr. Kelly, they\\nregarded a few scenes in Mr. Goldsmith s piece as\\ntoo low for their entertainment, and therefore treated\\nthem with unjustifiable severity. Nevertheless the\\nGood-natured Man succeeded, though in a degree\\ninferior to its merit. The prologue to it, which is\\nexcellent, was written by the author s friend, Dr.\\nSamuel Johnson.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "XIV LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH.\\nIn 1773, the comedy of She Stoops to Conquer, or\\nThe Mistakes of a Night, was acted at Covent-Gar-\\nden theatre. This piece was considered as a farce\\nby some writers even if so, it must be ranked among\\nthe farces of a man of genius. One of the most ludi-\\ncrous circumstances it contains, which is that of the\\nrobbery, is said to be borrowed from Albumazar.\\nMr. Colman, who was then a manager of the thea-\\ntre, had very little opinion of this piece, and made so\\nkeen a remark on it while in rehearsal, that the Doc-\\ntor never forgave him: it however succeeded con-\\ntrary to Mr. Colman s expectations, being received\\nwith uncommon applause by the audience. The suc-\\ncess of this comedy produced a very illiberal and per-\\nsonal attack, which appeared in one of the public\\nprints, of which the following is a copy\\nTO DR. GOLDSMITH.\\nVous vous noyez en vanitc.\\nSir,\\nThe happy knack which you have learnt of puf-\\nfing your own compositions, provokes me to come\\nforth. You have not been the editor of newspapers", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH. XV\\nand magazines, not to discover the trick of literary\\nhumbug. But the gauze is so thin, that the very foolish\\npart of the world see through it, and discover the\\nDoctor s monkey face and cloven foot. Your poetic\\nvanity is as unpardonable as your personal. Would\\nman believe it, and will woman bear it, to be told,\\nthat for hours the great Goldsmith will stand survey-\\ning his grotesque oranthotan s figure in a glass? Was\\nbut the lovely H k as much enamoured, you would\\nnot sigh, my gentle swain, in vain. But your vanity\\nis preposterous. How will this same bard of Bedlam\\nring the changes in praise of Goldy But what has he\\nto be either proud or vain of? The Traveller isaflimsy\\npoem, built upon false principles principles diame-\\ntrically opposite to liberty. What is the Good-natured\\nMan but a poor water-gruel, dramatic dose What is\\nthe Deserted Village but a pretty poem of easy num-\\nbers, without fancy, dignity, genius, or fire And pray\\nwhat may be the last speaking pantomime, so much\\npraised by the Doctor himself, but an incoherent piece\\nof stuff, the figure of a woman, with a fish s tail, with-\\nout plot, incident, or intrigue We are made to laugh\\nat stale, dull jokes, wherein we mistake pleasantry\\nfor wit, and grimace for humour wherein every scene", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "XVI LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH.\\nis unnatural, and inconsistent with the rules, the laws\\nof nature and of the drama, viz. two gentlemen come\\nto a man of fortune s house, eat, drink, sleep, Sec.\\nand take it for an inn. The one is intended as a lover\\nto the daughter he talks with her for some hours,\\nand when he sees her again in a different dress, he\\ntreats her as a bar-girl, and swears she squinted. He\\nabuses the master of the house, and threatens to kick\\nhim out of his own doors. The squire, whom we are\\ntold is to be a fool, proves to be the most sensible be-\\ning of the piece and he makes out a whole act by\\nbidding his mother lie close behind a bush, persuading\\nher, that his father, her own husband, is a highway-\\nman, and that he is come to cut their throats and to\\ngive his cousin an opportunity to go off, he drives his\\nmother over hedges, ditches, and through ponds.\\nThere is not, sweet sucking Johnson, a natural stroke\\nin the whole play, but the young fellow giving the\\nstolen jewels to the mother, supposing her to be the\\nlandlady. That Mr. Colman did no justice to this\\npiece, I honestly allow that he told all his friends\\nthat it would be damned, I positively aver; and from\\nsuch ungenerous insinuations, without a dramatic\\nmerit, it rose to public notice and it is now the ton", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH. XV11\\nto go to see it, though I never saw a person, that\\neither liked it or approved it, any more than the ab-\\nsurd plot of Home s tragedy of Alonzo. Mr. Gold-\\nsmith, correct your arrogance, reduce your vanity,\\nand endeavour to believe, as a man, you are of the\\nplainest sort, and as an author, but a mortal piece of\\nmediocrity.\\nBrisez le miroir infidele,\\nQui vous cache la vevite.\\nTom Tickle.\\nThe illiberality of this epistle will be apparent to\\nevery reader. Dr. Goldsmith, immediately on its\\nappearance, went to the publisher s house, and, after\\nhaving argued on the malignity of this unmerited\\nattack on his character, he applied his cane about his\\nshoulders with all his might the publisher, however,\\nthought it necessary to stand in his own defence. It\\nis not easy to say when or how this combat would have\\nended, had not Dr. Kenrick, who was sitting in a pri-\\nvate room, stepped forward and parted them. Dr.\\nKenrick was said to be the author of this severe attack\\non the Doctor s character but other proofs of the\\nc", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "XV111 LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH.\\nmalignity of this man s heart might easily be pro-\\nduced.\\nAfter this rencontre, several paragraphs appeared\\nin the newspapers, severely censuring Dr. Goldsmith\\nfor beiting a man in his own house. In consequence\\nof this, on the 31st of March, 1773, he published the\\nfollowing address in the Daily Advertiser\\nTO THE PUBLIC.\\nLest it should be supposed, that I have been wil-\\nling to correct in others an abuse, of which I have been\\nguilty myself, I beg leave to declare, that in all my\\nlife I never wrote, or dictated, a single paragraph,\\nletter, or essay, in a newspaper, except a few moral\\nessays under the character of a Chinese, about ten\\nyears ago, in the Ledger and a letter, to which I\\nsigned my name, in the St. James s Chronicle. If the\\nliberty of the press therefore has been abused, I have\\nhad no hand in it.\\nI have always considered the press as the pro-\\ntector of our freedom, as a watchful guardian, capable\\nof uniting the weak against the encroachments of\\npower. What concerns the public most properly ad-", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH. XIX\\nmits of a public discussion. But of late, the press has\\nturned from defending public interest, to making in-\\nroads upon private life from combating the strong,\\nto overwhelming the feeble. No condition is now too\\nobscure for its abuse, and the protector is become the\\ntyrant of the people. In this manner the freedom of\\nthe press is beginning to sow the seeds of its own\\ndissolution the great must oppose it from principle,\\nand the weak from fear till at last every rank of\\nmankind shall be found to give up its benefits, con-\\ntent with security from its insults.\\nHow to put a stop to this licentiousness, by which\\nall are indiscriminately abused, and by which vice\\nconsequently escapes in the general censure, I am\\nunable to tell all I could wish is, that, as the law\\ngives us no protection against the injury, so it should\\ngive calumniators no shelter after having provoked\\ncorrection. The insults which we receive before the\\npublic, by being more open, are the more distressing;\\nby treating them with silent contempt, we do not pay\\na sufficient deference to the opinion of the world. By\\nrecurring to legal redress, we too often expose the\\nweakness of the law, which only serves to increase\\nour mortification by failing to relieve us. In short,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "XX LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH.\\nevery man should singly consider himself as a guar-\\ndian of the liberty of the press, and, as far as his in-\\nfluence can extend, should endeavour to prevent its\\nlicentiousness becoming at last the grave of its free-\\ndom.\\nOliver Goldsmith.\\nIn 1772 was performed at Covent-Garden theatre,\\nfor the benefit of Mr. Quick, The Grumbler, a fairce,\\naltered from Sedley, this was the last of our author s\\ntheatrical pieces its success was not very flattering\\nfor it was acted no more than once, and has never\\nappeared in print.\\nIt is certain that the Doctor might, with a little\\nattention to prudence and economy, have placed him-\\nself in a state above want and dependance. He is\\nsaid to have acquired, in one year, one thousand eight\\nhundred pounds and the advantages arising from his\\nwritings were very considerable for many years before\\nhis death. But these were rendered useless by an\\nimprovident liberality, which prevented his distin-\\nguishing properly the objects of his generosity and an\\nunhappy attachment to gaming, with the arts of which\\nhe was very little acquainted. He therefore remained", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH. XXI\\nat times as much embarrassed in his circumstances,\\nas when his income was in its lowest and most preca-\\nrious state.\\nHe had been for some years, at different times,\\naffected with a violent strangury, which contributed\\nto embitter the latter part of his life, and which,\\nunited with the vexations he suffered upon other oc-\\ncasions, brought on a kind of habitual despondency.\\nIn this condition he was attacked by a nervous fever,\\nwhich, in spite of the most able medical assistance,\\nterminated in his dissolution on the 4th day of April,\\n1774, in the forty-third year of his age.\\nHis remains were deposited in the burial-ground\\nbelonging to the Temple, and a monument hath since\\nbeen erected to his memory, in Westminster-Abbey,\\nat the expense of a literary club to which he belonged.\\nIt consists of a large medallion, exhibiting a good like-\\nness of the Doctor, embellished with literary orna-\\nments underneath which is a tablet of white marble,\\nwith the following Latin inscription, written by his\\nfriend Dr. Samuel Johnson", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "XX11 LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH,\\nOLIVARTI GOLDSMITH,\\nPoetse, Physici, Historici\\nQui nullum fere scribendi Genus\\nNon tetigit,\\nNullum quod tetigit non ornavit\\nSive Risus essent movendi,\\nSive Lacrimse\\nAffectuum potens, at lenis Dominator\\nIngenio sublimis, vividus, versatilis\\nOratione grandis, nitidus, venustus;\\nHoc Monumento Memoriam coluit\\nSodalium Amor,\\nAmicorum Fides,\\nLectorum Veneratio.\\nNatus Hibernia, Forneiaa Lonfordiensis,\\nIn Loco cui Nomen Pallas,\\nNov. xxix. MDCCXXXI.\\nEblanse Literis institutus.\\nObiit Londini\\nApr. iv. mdcclxxiv.\\nTranslation,\\nThis Monument is raised\\nTo the Memory of\\nOLIVER GOLDSMITH,\\nPoet, Natural Philosopher, and Historian,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "LIFE OF DR. GOLDSMITH. XXlll\\nWho left no species of writing untouched,\\nor\\nUnadorned by his pen,\\nWhether to move laughter,\\nOr draw tears:\\nHe was a powerful master\\nOver the affections,\\nThough at the same time a gentle tyrant\\nOf a genius at once sublime, lively, and\\nEqual to every subject:\\nIn expression at once noble,\\nPure, and delicate.\\nHis memory will last\\nAs long as Society retains affection,\\nFriendship is not void of honour,\\nAnd Reading wants not her admirers.\\nHe was born in the kingdom of Ireland,\\nAt Femes, in the province\\nOf Leinster,\\nWhere Pallas had set her name,\\n29th Nov. 1731.\\nHe was educated at Dublin,\\nAnd died in London,\\n4th April, 1774.\\nWe shall conclude this account of the life of Dr.\\nGoldsmith with the two following poems, written on\\nthe occasion of his death.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "xxir\\nON THE DEATH\\nOF\\nDR. GOLDSMITH.\\nBY W. WOTY.\\nADIEU, sweet Bard! to each fine feeling true,\\nThy virtues many, and thy foibles few\\nThose form d to charm e en vicious minds,. ..and these\\nWith harmless mirth the social soul to please.\\nAnother s woe thy heart could always melt;\\nNone gave more free.... for none more deeply felt.\\nSweet Bard, adieu thy own harmonious lays\\nHave sculptur d out thy monument of praise\\nYes.. ..these survive to time s remotest day;\\nWhile drops the bust, and boastful tombs decay.\\nReader, if number d in the Muses train,\\nGo, tune the lyre, and imitate his strain\\nBut, if no poet thou, reverse the plan,\\nDepart in peace, and imitate the man.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "XXV\\nA MONODY\\nON THE\\nDEATH OF DR. OLIVER GOLDSMITH.\\nJJARK as the night, which now in dunnest robe\\nAscends her zenith, o er the silent globe,\\nSad Melancholy wakes, awhile to tread\\nWith solemn step the mansions of the dead\\nLed by her hand, o er this yet recent shrine\\nI sorrowing bend and here essay to twine\\nThe tributary wreath of laureat bloom,\\nWith artless hands, to deck a poet s tomb\\nThe tomb where Goldsmith sleeps. Fond hopes,\\nadieu\\nNo more your airy dreams shall mock my view\\nHere will I learn ambition to control,\\nAnd each aspiring passion of the soul\\nEv n now, methinks, his well-known voice I hear,\\nWhen late he meditated flight from care,\\nWhen as imagination fondly hied\\nTo scenes of sweet retirement, thus he cried:", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "XXVi 3I0N0DT ON THE DEATH\\nYe splendid fabrics, palaces and towers,\\nN Where Dissipation leads the giddy hours,\\nWhere Pomp, Disease, and Knavery reside,\\nH And Folly bends the knee to wealthy Pride\\nWhere Luxury s purveyors learn to rise,\\nAnd Worth, to Want a prey, unfriended dies\\nWhere warbling eunuchs glitter in brocade,\\nAnd hapless poets toil for scanty bread\\nFarewel to other scenes I turn my eyes,\\nEmbosom d in the vale where Auburn lies,\\nDeserted Auburn, those now ruin d glades,\\nu Forlorn, yet ever dear and honour d shades.\\nM There though the hamlet boasts no smiling train,\\nu Nor sportful pastime circling on the plain;\\nNo needy villains prowl around for prey,\\nM No slanderers, no sycophants betray j\\nu No gaudy foplings scornfully deride\\nM The swain, whose humble pipe is all his pride.\\nThere will I fly to seek that soft repose,\\nWTiich solitude contemplative bestows:\\nYet oh fond hope perchance there still remains\\nOne lingering friend behind, to bless the plains j\\nu Some hermit of the dale, enshrin d in ease,\\nLong-lost companion of my youthful days;", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "Or DR. GOLDSMITH. XXVli\\nWith whose sweet converse in his social bower,\\nI oft may chide away some vacant hour\\nTo whose pure sympathy I may impart\\nEach latent grief that labours at my heart,\\nWhate er I felt, and what I saw, relate,\\nu The shoals of luxury, the wrecks of state\\nThose busy scenes, where Science wakes in vain,\\nIn which I shar d, ah, ne er to share again\\nBut whence that pang? does nature now rebel?\\nWhy faulters out my tongue the wordjarewel?\\nYe friends! who long have witness d to my toil,\\nAnd seen me ploughing in a thankless soil\\nWliose partial tenderness hush d every pain,\\nW T hose approbation made my bosom vain:\\nTis you, to whom my soul divided hies\\nWith fond regret, and half unwilling flies\\nSighs forth her parting wishes to the wind,\\nAnd lingering leaves her better half behind.\\nu Can I forget the intercourse I sharM,\\nWhat friendship cherish d, and what zeal enclcar d?.\\nAlas! remembrance still must turn to you,\\nAnd to my latest hour protract the long adieu.\\nAmid the woodlands, wheresoe er I rove,\\nThe plain, or secret covert of the grove,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "XXV1U MONODY ON THE DEATH\\nImagination shall supply her store\\nOf painful bliss, and what she can restore\\nu Shall strew each lonely path with flowrets gay,\\nAnd wide as is her boundless empire stray.\\nOn eagle pinions traverse earth and skies,\\nAnd bid the lost and distant objects rise.\\nHere, where encircled o er the sloping land\\nWoods rise on woods, shall Aristotle stand;\\nLyceum round the godlike man rejoice,\\n11 And bow with reverence to wisdom s voice.\\nThere spreading oaks shall arch the vaulted dome\\nThe champion, there, of liberty, and Rome,\\nli In Attic eloquence shall thunder laws,\\nAnd uncorrupted senates shout applause.\\ntl Not more ecstatic visions rapt the soul\\n84 Of Numa, when to midnight grots he stole,\\nAnd learnt his lore, from virtue s mouth refin d,\\nTo fetter vice, and harmonize mankind.\\nNow stretch d at ease, beside some fav rite stream,\\nOf beauty and enchantment will I dream;\\nElysium, feats of art, and laurels won,\\nThe Graces three, and Japhet s* fabled son\\nPromethens.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "OF DR. GOLDSMITH. XXlX\\nc Whilst Angelo shall wave the mystic rod,\\nAnd see a new creation wait his nod,\\nPrescribe his bounds to Time s remorseless power\\nAnd to my arms my absent friends restore,\\nPlace me amidst the group, each well-known face,\\nThe sons of science, lords of human race\\nAnd as oblivion sinks at his command,\\nNature shall rise more finish d from his hand.\\nThus some magician fraught with potent skill,\\nTransforms, and moulds each vary d mass at will;\\nCalls animated forms of wondrous birth,\\nCadmean offspring from the teeming earth,\\nu Uncears the ponderous tombs, the realms of night,\\nAnd calls their cold inhabitants to light\\nOr, as he traverses a dreary scene,\\nBids every sweet of nature there convene.\\nu Huge mountains skirted round with wavy woods,\\nThe shrub-deckt lawns, and silver-sprinkled floods,\\nWhilst flowrets spring around the smiling land,\\nAnd follow on the traces of his wand.\\nSuch prospects, lovely Auburn then, be thine$\\nAnd what thou canst of bliss impart be mine;\\nAmid thy humble shades, in tranquil ease,\\nGrant me to pass the remnant of my days:", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "XKX KONODY ON THE DEATH\\nUnfetter d from the toil of wretched gain,\\nMy raptur d muse shall pour her noblest strain,\\nWithin her native bowers the notes prolong,\\nAnd, grateful, meditate her latest song.\\nThus, as adown the slope of life I bend,\\nAnd move, resign d, to meet my latter end,\\nEach worldly wish, each worldly care represt,\\nA self- approving heart alone possest,\\nContent, to bounteous heaven I ll leave the rest. J\\nThus spoke the Bard but not one friendly power\\nWith nod assentive crown d the parting hour\\nNo eastern meteor glar d beneath the sky,\\nNo dextral omen Nature hqav d a sigh,\\nProphetic of the dire impending blow,\\nThe presage of her loss, and Britain s woe.\\nAlready portion d, unrelenting Fate\\nHad made a pause upon the number d date;\\nBehind, stood Death, too horrible for sight,\\nIn darkness clad, expectant prun d for flight\\nPleas d at the word, the shapeless monster sped,\\nOn eager message to the humble shed.\\nWhere wrapt by soft poetic visions round,\\nSweet slumbering, Fancy s darling son he found.\\nAt his approach the silken-pinion d train,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "OF DR. GOLDSMITH. XXXI\\nAffrighted, mount aloft, and quit the brain,\\nWhich late they fann d now other scenes than dales\\nOf woody pride, succeed, or flow ry vales:\\nAs when a sudden tempest veils the sky,\\nBefore serene, and streaming lightnings fly\\nThe prospect shifts, and pitchy volumes roll,\\nAlong the drear expanse, from pole to pole\\nTerrific horrors all the void invest,\\nWhilst the arch-spectre issues forth confest.\\nThe Bard beholds him beckon to the tomb\\nOf yawning night, eternity s dread womb;\\nIn vain attempts to fly, the impassive air\\nRetards his steps, and yields him to despair\\nHe feels a gripe that thrills through every veii\\\\,\\nAnd panting struggles in the fatal chain.\\nHere paus d the fell destroyer to survey\\nThe pride, the boast of man, his destin d prey\\nPrepar d to strike, he pois d aloft the dart,\\nAnd plung d the steel in Virtue s bleeding heart;\\nAbhorrent, back the springs of life rebound,\\nAnd leave on Nature s face a grisly wound,\\nA wound enroll d among Britannia s woes,\\nThat ages yet to follow, cannot close.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "XXxii MONODY ON THE DEATH, ScC.\\nOh, Goldsmith how shall sorrow now essay\\nTo murmur out her slow incondite lay\\nIn what sad accents mourn the luckless hour,\\nThat yielded thee to unrelenting power\\nThee, the proud boast of all the tuneful train\\nThat sweep the lyre, or swell the polish d strain\\nMuch-honour d Bard if my untutor d verse\\nCould pay a tribute, worthy of thy hearse,\\nWith fearless hands I d build the fane of praise,\\nAnd boldly strew the never-fading bays.\\nBut, ah with thee my guardian Genius fled,\\nAnd pillow d in thy tomb his silent head:\\nPain d Memory alone behind remains,\\nAnd pensive stalks the solitary plains.\\nRich in her sorrows, honours without art,\\nShe pays in tears, redundant from the heart.\\nAnd say, what boots it o er thy hallow d dust\\nTo heap the graven pile, or laurel d bust\\nSince by thy hands already rais d on high,\\nWe see a fabric tow ring to the sky:\\nW T here hand in hand with Time, the sacred lore\\nShall travel on, till Nature is no more", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "THE POEMS\\nOF\\nDR. GOLDSMITH,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "THE TRAVELLER;\\nQR,\\nA PROSPECT OF SOCIETY.\\nFIRST PRINTED IN 1765,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "DEDICATION.\\nTO THE REV. HENRY GOLDSMITH.\\nDEAR SIR,\\nI AM sensible that the friendship between us can\\nacquire no new force from the ceremonies of a dedi-\\ncation; and perhaps it demands an excuse thus to\\nprefix your name to my attempts, which you decline\\ngiving with your own. But as a part of this poem\\nwas formerly written to you from Switzerland, the\\nwhole can now, with propriety, be only inscribed to\\nyou. It will also throw a light upon many parts of\\nit, when the reader understands, that it is addressed\\nto a man, who, despising fame and fortune, has re-\\ntired early to happiness and obscurity, with an income\\nof forty pounds a year*", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "6 DEDICATION.\\nI now perceive, my dear brother, the wisdom of\\nyour humble choice. You have entered upon a sacred\\noffice, where the harvest is great, and the labourers\\nare but few while you have left the field of Ambition,\\nwhere the labourers are many, and the harvest not\\nworth carrying away. But of all kinds of ambition,\\nwhat from the refinement of the times, from different\\nsystems of criticism, and from the divisions of party,\\nthat which pursues poetical fame is the wildest.\\nPoetry makes a principal amusement among un-\\npolished nations but in a country verging to the ex-\\ntremes of refinement, Painting and Music come in for\\na share. As these offer the feeble mind a less labo-\\nrious entertainment, they at first rival Poetry, and at\\nlength supplant her they engross all that favour once\\nshown to her, and, though but younger sisters, seize\\nupon the elder s birthright.\\nYet, however this art may be neglected by the\\npowerful, it is still in greater danger from the mis-\\ntaken efforts of the learned to improve it. What criti-", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "DEDICATION. 7\\ncisms have we not heard of late in favour of blank\\nverse, and Pindaric odes, chorusses, anapests and\\niambics, alliterative care, and happy negligence!\\nEvery absurdity has now a champion to defend it;\\nand as he is generally much in the wrong, so he has\\nalways much to say for error is ever talkative.\\nBut there is an enemy to this art still more dan-\\ngerous....! mean Party. Party entirely distorts the\\njudgment, and destroys the taste. When the mind\\nis once infected with this disease, it can only find\\npleasure in what contributes to increase the distemper.\\nLike the tiger, that seldom desists from pursuing man,\\nafter having once preyed upon human flesh, the reader,\\nwho has once gratified his appetite with calumny,\\nmakes, ever after, the most agreeable feast upon\\nmurdered reputation. Such readers generally admire\\nsome half-witted thing, who wants to be thought a\\nbold man, having lost the character of a wise one.\\nHim they dignify with the name of poet his tawdry", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "8 DEDICATION.\\nlampoons are called satires his turbulence is said to\\nbe force, and his phrenzy fire.\\nWhat reception a poem may find, which has\\nneither abuse, party, nor blank verse to support it, I\\ncannot tell, nor am I solicitous to known. My aims\\nare right. Without espousing the cause of any party,\\nI have attempted to moderate the rage of all. I have\\nendeavoured to show, that there may be equal happi-\\nness in states, that are differently governed from our\\nown that every state has a particular principle of hap-\\npiness, and that this principle in each may be carried\\nto a mischievous excess. There are few can judge,\\nbetter than yourself, how far these positions are illus-\\ntrated in this Poem.\\nI am, Dear Sir,\\nYour most affectionate Brother,\\nOliver Goldsmith,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "THE TRAVELLER;\\nOR.\\nA PROSPECT OF SOCIETY.*\\nREMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow,\\nOr by the lazy Scheld, or wandering Po\\nOr onward, where the rude Carinthian boor\\nAgainst the houseless stranger shuts the door\\nOr where Campania s plain forsaken lies,\\nA weary waste expanding to the skies\\nWhere er I roam, whatever realms to see,\\nMy heart, untravelPd, fondly turns to thee:\\nStill to my brother turns, with ceasless pain,\\nAnd drags at each remove a lengthening chain.\\nSeveral alterations were made in this Poem, and some\\nnew verses added to it, as it passed through different edi-\\ntions We have followed the last edition published in the\\nlifetime of the author.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "10 THE TRAVELLER.\\nEternal blessings crown my earliest friend,\\nAnd round his dwelling guardian saints attend\\nBlest be that spot, where cheerful guests retire\\nTo pause from toil, and trim their evening lire\\nBlest that abode, where want and pain repair,\\nAnd every stranger finds a ready chair\\nBlest be those feasts with simple plenty crown d,\\nWhere all the ruddy family around\\nLaugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,\\nOr sigh with pity at some mournful tale\\nOr press the bashful stranger to his food,\\nAnd learn the luxury of doing good.\\nBut me... .not destin d such delights to share,\\nMy prime of life in wandering spent and care\\nImpell d with steps unceasing to pursue\\nSome fleeting good, that mocks me with the view\\nThat like the circle bounding earth and skies,\\nAllures from far, yet, as I follow, flies....\\nMy fortune leads to traverse realms alone,\\nAnd find no spot of all the world my own.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "THE TRAVELLER. 11\\nEv n now, where Alpine solitudes ascend,\\nI sit me down a pensive hour to spend\\nAnd, plac d on high above the storm s career,\\nLook downward where an hundred realms appear\\nLakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide,\\nThe pomp of kings, the shepherd s humbler pride.\\nWhen thus Creation s charms around combine,\\nAmidst the store should thankless pride repine?\\nSay, should the philosophic mind disdain\\nThat good which makes each humbler bosom vain r\\nLet school-taught pride dissemble all it can,\\nThese little things are great to little man\\nAnd wiser he, whose sympathetic mind\\nExults in all the good of all mankind.\\nYe glittering towns, with wealth and splendour crown d\\nYe fields, where summer spreads profusion round\\nYe lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale\\nYe bending swains, that dress the flowery vale\\nFor me your tributary stores combine\\nCreation s heir, the world, the world is mine.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "12 THE TRAVELLER.\\nAs some lone miser visiting his store,\\nBends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o er;\\nHoards after hoards his rising raptures fill,\\nYet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still\\nThus to my breast alternate passions rise,\\nPleas d with each good that Heaven to man supplies\\nYet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall,\\nTo see the hoard of human bliss so small\\nAnd oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find\\nSome spot to real happiness consign d,\\nWhere my worn soul, each wandering hope at rest,\\nMay gather bliss to see my fellows blest.\\nBut where to find that happiest spot below,\\nWho can direct, when all pretend to know\\nThe shudd ring tenant of the frigid zone\\nBoldly proclaims that happiest spot his own\\nExtols the treasures of his stormy seas,\\nAnd his long nights of revelry and ease\\nThe naked negro, panting at the line,\\nBoasts of his golden sands and palmy wine,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "THE TRAVELLER. IS\\nBasks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, I\\nAnd thanks his gods for all the good they gave.\\nSuch is the patriot s boast, where er we roam\\nHis first, best country, ever, is.. ..at home.\\nAnd yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,\\nAnd estimate the blessings -which they share,\\nThough patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find\\nAn equal portion dealt to all mankind\\nAs different good, by art or nature given,\\nTo different nations makes their blessings even.\\nNature, a mother kind alike to all,\\nStill grants her bliss at Labour s earnest call;\\nWith food as well the peasant is supply d\\nOn Idra s cliffs as Arno s shelvy side\\nAnd though the rocky crested summits frown,\\nThese rocks, by custom, turn to beds of down.\\nFrom art more various are the blessings sent\\nWealth, commerce, honour, liberty, content.\\nYet these each other s power so strong contest,\\nThat either seems destructive of the rest.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "14 THE TRAVELLER.\\nWhere wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails\\nAnd honour sinks where commerce long prevails.\\nHence every state to one lov d blessing prone,\\nConforms and models life to that alone.\\nEach to the fav rite happiness attends,\\nAnd spurns the plan that aims at other ends\\nTill carry d to excess in each domain,\\nThis fav rite good begets peculiar pain.\\nBut let us try these truths with closer eyes,\\nAnd trace them through the prospect as it lies\\nHere for a while my proper cares resign d,\\nHere let me sit in sorrow for mankind\\nLike yon neglected shrub, at random cast,\\nThat shades the steep, and sighs at every blast.\\nFar to the right, where Appennine ascends,\\nBright as the summer, Italy extends\\nIts uplands sloping deck the mountain s side,\\nWoods over woods in gay theatric pride\\nWhile oft some temple s mould ring tops between\\nWith memorable grandeur mark the scene.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "THE TRAVELLER. 15\\nCould Nature s bounty satisfy the breast,\\nThe sons of Italy were surely blest.\\nWhatever fruits in different climes are found,\\nThat proudly rise, or humbly court the ground\\nWhatever blooms in torrid tracts appear,\\nWhose bright succession decks the vary d year\\nWhatever sweets salute the northern sky\\nWith vernal lives, that blossom but to die\\nThese here disporting own the kindred soil,\\nNor ask luxuriance from the planter s toil;\\nWhile sea-born gales their gelid wings expand,\\nTo winnow fragrance round the smiling land.\\nBut small the bliss that sense alone bestows....\\nAnd sensual bliss is all the nation knows.\\nIn florid beauty groves and fields appear....\\nMan seems the only growth that dwindles here.\\nContrasted faults through all his manners reign\\nThough poor, luxurious though submissive, vain\\nThough grave, yet trifling zealous, yet untrue\\nAnd ev n in penance planning sins anew.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "16 THE TRAVELLER.\\nAll evils here contaminate the mind,\\nThat opulence departed leaves behind\\nFor wealth was theirs, not far remov d the date,\\nWhen commerce proudly flourish through the state;\\nAt her command the palace learnt to rise,\\nAgain the long-fall n column sought the skies\\nThe canvass glow d, beyond e en Nature warm;\\nThe pregnant quarry teem d with human form\\nTill, more unsteady than the southern gale,\\nCommerce on other shores dispiay d her sail;\\nWhile nought remain d of all that riches gave,\\nBut towns unmann d, and lords without a slave\\nAnd late tb.e nation found, with fruitless skill,\\nIts former strength was but plethoric ill.\\nYet still the loss of wealth is here supply d\\nBy arts, the splendid wrecks of former pride\\nFrom these the feeble heart and long-fall n mind\\nAn easy compensation seem to find.\\nHere may be seen, in bloodless pomp array d,\\nThe pasteboard triumph and the cavalcade", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "THE TRAVELLER. IF\\nProcessions form d for piety and love\\nA mistress, or a saint, in every grove.\\nBy sports like these are all their cares beguil d....\\nThe sports of children satisfy the child\\nEach nobler aim, represt by long controul,\\nNow sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul\\nWhile low delights succeeding fast behind,\\nIn happier meanness occupy the mind\\nAs in those domes, where Cxsars once bore sway,\\nDefac d by time, and tott ring in decay,\\nThere in the ruin, heedless of the dead,\\nThe shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed\\nAnd, wcnd ring man could want the larger pile,\\nExults, and owns his cottage with a smile.\\nMy soul, turn from them turn we to survey\\nWhere rougher climes a nobler race display,\\nWhere the bleak Swiss their stormy mansion tread,\\nAnd force a churlish soil for scanty bread\\nNo product here the barren hills afford,\\nBut man and steel, the soldier and his sword.\\nG", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "IS THE TRAVELLER.\\nNo vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,\\nBut winter lingering chills the lap of May;\\nNo zephyr fondly sues the mountain s breast,\\nBut meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.\\nYet still, e en here, content can spread a charm 5\\nRedress the clime, and all its rage disarm.\\nTho* poor the peasant s hut, his feasts tho small,\\nHe sees his little lot the lot of all\\nSees no contiguous palace rear its head,\\nTo shame the meanness of his humble shed\\nNo costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal,\\nTo make him loath his vegetable meal\\nBut calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,\\nEach wish contracting, fits him to the soil.\\nCheerful at morn, he wakes from short repose,\\nBreasts the keen air, and carols as he goes\\nWith patient angle trolls the finny deep,\\nOr drives his vent rous ploughshare to the steep\\nOr seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way,\\nAnd drags the struggling savage into day.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "THE TRAVELLER. 19\\nAnd night returning, every labour sped,\\nHe sits him down the monarch of a shed\\nSmiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys\\nHis children s looks, that brighten at the blaze\\nWhile his lov d partner, boastful of her hoard,\\nDisplays her cleanly platter on the board\\nAnd haply too some pilgrim, thither led,\\nWith many a tale repays the nightly bed.\\nThus every good his native wilds impart,\\nImprints the patriot passion on his heart\\nAnd e en those hills, that round his mansion rise,\\nEnhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies\\nDear is that shed to which his soul conforms,\\nAnd dear that hill which lifts him to the storms\\nit l\\nAnd as a child, when scaring sounds molest,\\ni\\nClings close and closer to the mother s breast,\\nSo the loud torrent, and the whirlwind s roar,\\nBut bind him to his native mountains more.\\nSuch are the charms to barren states assign d\\nTheir wants but few, their wishes all confin d:", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "\u00c2\u00a30 THE TRAVELLER.\\nYet let them only share the praises due....\\nIf few their wants, their pleasures are but few;\\nFor every want that stimulates the breast,\\nBecomes a source of pleasure when redrest.\\nWhence from such lands each pleasing science flies,\\nThat first excites desire, and then supplies\\nUnknown to them when sensual pleasures cloy,\\nTo fill the languid pause with finer joy\\nUnknown those powers that raise the soul to flame,\\nCatch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame.\\nTheir level life is but a mouldering fire,\\nUnquench d by want, unfann d by strong desire;\\nUnfit for raptures, or, if raptures cheer\\nOn some high festival of once a year,\\nIn wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire,\\nTill, bury d in debauch, the bliss expire.\\nBut not their joys alone thus coarsely flow\\nTheir morals, like their pleasures, are but low\\nFor, as refinement stops, from sire to son\\nUnalter d, unimprov d, the manners run", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "THE TRAVELLER. 21\\nAnd love s and friendship s finely-pointed dart\\nFall blunted from each indurated heart.\\nSome sterner virtues o er the mountain s breast\\nMay sit, like falcons cowering on the nest\\nBut all the gentler morals, such as play\\nThrough life s more cultur d walks, and charm the war,\\nThese, far dispers d, on timorous pinions fiy,\\nTo sport and nutter in a kinder sky.\\nTo kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,\\nI turn; and France displays her bright domain....\\nGay sprightly land of mirth and social ease,\\nPleas d with thyself, whom all the world- can please,\\nHow often have I led thy sportive choir,\\nWith tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire\\nWhere shading elms along the margin grew,\\nAnd freshen d from the wave the zephyr new\\nAnd haply, though my harsh touch fault ring still,\\nBut mock d all tune, and marr d the dancer s skill\\nYet would the village praise my wondrous power.,\\nAnd dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "22 THE TRAVELLER.\\nAlike all ages* Dames of ancient days\\nHave led their children through the mirthful maze,\\nAnd the gay grandsi e, skili d in gestic lore,\\nHas frisk d beneath the burden of three-score.\\nSo blest a life these thoughtless realms display,\\nThus idly busy rolls their world away\\nTheirs are those arts that mind to mind endear,\\nFor honour forms the social temper here.\\nHonour, that praise which real merit gains,\\nOr e en imaginary worth obtains,\\nHere passes current paid from hand to hand,\\nIt shifts, in splendid traffic, round the land\\nFrom courts to camps, to cottages it strays,\\nAnd all are taught an avarice of praise\\nThey please, are pleas d, they give to get esteem^\\nTill, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem.\\nBat while this softer art their bliss supplies,\\nIt gives their follies also room to rise\\nFor praise too dearly lov d, or warmly sought,\\nEnfeebles all internal strength of thought,;", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "THE TRAVELLER. 23\\nAnd the weak soul, within itself unblest,\\nLeans for all pleasure on ancther s breast.\\nHence Ostentation here, with tawdry art,\\nPants for the vulgar praise which fools impart;\\nHere Vanity assumes her pert grimace,\\nAnd trims her robes of frieze with copper lace;\\nHere beggar Pride defrauds her daily cheer,\\nTo boast one splendid banquet once a year;\\nThe mind still turns where shifting fashion draws^\\nNor weighs the solid worth of self-applause.\\nTo men of other minds my fancy flies,\\nEmbosom d in the deep where Holland lies.\\nMethinks her patient sons before me stand,\\nWhere the broad ocean leans against the land,\\nAnd, sedulous to step the coming tide,\\nLift the tall ramp ire s artificial pride.\\nOnward methinks, and diligently slow,\\nThe firm, connected bulwark seems to grow;\\nSpreads its long arms amidst the watery roar,\\nScoops out an empire, and usurps the shore", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "24 THE TRAVELLER.\\nWhile the pent ocean, rising o er the pile,\\nSees an amphibious world beneath him smile\\nThe slow canal, the yellow-blossom d vale,\\nThe willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail,\\nThe crowded mart, the cultivated plain,\\nA new creation rescu d from his reign.\\nThus, while around the wave-subjected soil\\nImpels the native to repeated toil,\\nIndustrious habits in each bosom reign,\\nAnd industry begets a love of gain.\\nHence all the good from opulence that springs,\\nWith all those ills superfluous treasure brings,\\nAre here display d. Their much-lov d wealth imparts\\nConvenience, plenty, elegance, and arts\\nBut view them closer, craft and fraud appear....\\nE en liberty itself is bartered here.\\nAt gold s superior charms all freedom flies,\\nThe needy sell it, and the rich man buys\\nA land of tyrants, and a den of slaves,\\nHer wretches seek dishonourable graves,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "THE TRAVELLER. 25\\nAnd calmly bent, to servitude conform,\\nDull as their lakes that slumber in the storm.\\nHeavens! how unlike their Belgic sires of old;\\nRough, poor, content, ungovernably bold\\nWar in each breast, and freedom on each brow....\\nHow much unlike the sons of Britain now\\nFir d at the sound, my genius spreads her wing,\\nAnd flies where Britain courts the western spring\\nWhere lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride,\\nAnd brighter streams than fam d Hydaspes glide;\\nThere all around the gentlest breezes stray,\\nThere gentle music melts on every spray\\nCreation s mildest charms are there combin d....\\nExtremes are only in the master s mind\\nStern o er each bosom Reason holds her state,\\nW T ith daring aims irregularly great\\nPride in their port, defiance in their eye,\\nI see the lords of human kind pass by\\nIntent on high designs, a thoughtful band,\\nBy forms unfashion d, fresh from Nature s hand,\\nH", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "26 THE TRAVELLER.\\nFierce in their native hardiness of soul,\\nTrue to imagin d right, above contrcul,\\nWhile e en the peasant boasts these rights to scan,\\nAnd learns to venerate himself as man.\\nThine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictur d here\\nThine are those charms that dazzle and endear.\\nToo blest indeed, were such without alloy\\nBut foster d e en by Freedom, ills annoy\\nThat independence Britons prize too high,\\nKeeps man from man, and breaks the social tie\\nThe self-dependent lordlings stand alone,\\nAll claims that bind and sweeten life unknown.\\nHere, by the bonds of nature feebly held,\\nMinds combat minds, repelling and repell d\\nFerments arise, imprison d factions roar,\\nReprest ambition struggles round her shore,\\nTill over-wrought, the general system feels\\nIts motions stop, or phrensy fire the wheels.\\nNor this the worst. As nature s ties decay,\\nAs duty, love, and honour fail to sway,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "3THE TRAVELLER. 2T\\nFictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law,\\nStill gather strength, and force unwilling awe*\\nHence all obedience bows to these alone,\\nAnd talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown\\nTill time may come, when, stript of all her charms.\\nThe land of scholars, and the nurse of arms r\\nWhere noble stems transmit the patriot flame,\\nWhere kings have toil d, and poets wrote for fame.\\nOne sink of level avarice shall lie,\\nAnd scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour d die.\\nYet think not, thus when Freedom s ills I state,\\nI mean to flatter kings, or court the great:....\\nYe powers of truth, that bid my soul aspire,\\nFar from my bosom drive the low desire\\nAnd thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel\\nThe rabble s rage, and tyrant s angry steel;\\nThou transitory flower, alike undone\\nBy proud contempt, or favour s fostering sun,\\nStill may thy blooms the changeful Clime endure..-.\\nI only would repress them, to secure", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "28 THE TRAVELLER.\\nFor just experience tells, in every soil,\\nThat those who think must govern those that toil\\nAnd all that Freedom s highest aims can reach,\\nIs but to lay proportion d loads on each.\\nHence, should one order disproportion^ grow,\\nIts double weight must ruin all below.\\nO then how blind to all that truth requires,\\nWho think it freedom when a part aspires\\nCalm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms,\\nExcept when fast-approaching danger warms\\nBut when contending chiefs blockade the throne,\\nContracting regal power to stretch their own\\nWhen I behold a factious band agree\\nTo call it freedom when themselves are free\\nEach wanton judge new penal statutes draw,\\nLaws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law\\nThe wealth of climes, where savage nations roam,\\nPillag d from slaves to purchase slaves at home\\nFear, pity, justice, indignation start,\\nTear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "THE TRAVELLER. 29\\nTill half a patriot, half a coward grown,\\nI fly from petty tyrants to the throne.\\nYes, brother, curse with me that baleful hour,\\nWhen first Ambition struck at regal power\\nAnd thus polluting honour in its source,\\nGave wealth to sway the mind with double force.\\nHave we not seen, round Britain s peopled shore,\\nHer useful sons exchang d for useless ore\\nSeen all her triumphs but destruction haste,\\nLike flaring tapers bright ning as they waste\\nSeen Opulence, her grandeur to maintain,\\nLead stern Depopulation in her train,\\nAnd over fields, where scatter d hamlets rose\\nIn barren solitary pomp repose\\nHave we not seen, at Pleasure s lordly call,\\nThe smiling long-frequented village fall\\nBeheld the duteous son, the sire decay d,\\nThe modest matron, and the blushing maid,\\nForc d from their homes, a melancholy train,\\nTo traverse climes beyond the western main", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "30 THE TRAVELLER.\\nWhere wild Oswego spreads her swamps around,\\nAnd Niagara stuns with thund ring sound?\\nEv n now, perhaps, as there some pilgrim strays\\nThrough tangled forests, and through dangerous ways\\nWhere beasts with man divided empire claim,\\nAnd the brown Indian marks with murd rous aim\\nThere, while above the giddy tempest flies,\\nAnd all around distressful yells arise,\\nThe pensive exile, bending with his woe,\\nTo stop too fearful, and too faint to go,\\nCasts a long look where England s glories shine,\\nAnd bids his bosom sympathise with mine.\\nVain, very vain, my weary search to find\\nThat bliss which only centres in the mind\\nWhy have I stray d from pleasure and repose,\\nTo seek a good each government bestows?\\nIn every government, though terrors reign,\\nThough tyrant kings, or tyrant laws restrain,\\nHow small of all that human hearts endure,\\nThat part which laws or kings can cause or cure", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "THE TRAVELLER. 31\\nStill to ourselves in every place consign d,\\nOur own felicity we make or find\\nWith secret course, which no loud storms annoy,\\nGlides the smooth current of domestic joy.\\nThe lifted axe, the agonizing wheel,\\nLuke s iron crown, and Damien s bed of steel,\\nTo men remote from power but rarely known,\\nLeave reason, faith, and conscience, all our own.", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "THE DESERTED VILLAGE\\nA POEM.\\nFIRST PRINTED IN 1769.", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "DEDICATION.\\nTO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.\\nDEAR SIR,\\n1 CAN have no expectations, in an address of\\nthis kind, either to add to your reputation, or to esta-\\nblish my own. You can gain nothing from my admi-\\nration, as I am ignorant of that art in which you are\\nsaid to excel and I may lose much by the severity\\nof your judgment, as few have a juster taste in poetry\\nthan you. Setting interest, therefore, aside, to which\\nI never paid much attention, I must be indulged, at\\npresent, in following my affections. The only dedi-\\ncation I ever made was to my brother, because I\\nloved him better than most other men. He is since\\ndead. Permit me to inscribe this Poem to you.", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "36 DEDICATION.\\nHow far you may be pleased with the versifica-\\ntion and mere mechanical parts of this attempt, I do\\nnot pretend to inquire: but I know you will object\\n(and indeed several of our best and wisest friends\\nconcur in the opinion) that the depopulation it de-\\nplores is nowhere to be seen, and the disorders it\\nlaments are only to be found in the poet s own imagi-\\nnation. To this I can scarce make any other answer,\\nthan that I sincerely believe what I have written that\\nI have taken all possible pains, in my country excur-\\nsions, for these four or five years past, to be certain\\nof what I allege and that all my views and inquiries\\nhave led me to believe those miseries real, which I\\nhere attempt to display. But this is not the place to\\nenter into an inquiry, whether the country be depopu-\\nlating, or not; the discussion would take up much\\nroom, and I should prove myself, at best, an indiffer-\\nent politician, to tire the reader with a long pre-\\nface, when I want his unfatigued attention to a long\\npoem.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "DEDICATION. 37\\nIn regretting the depopulation of the country, I\\ninveigh against the increase of our luxuries and here\\nalso I expect the shout of modern politicians against\\nme. For twenty or thirty years past, it has been the\\nfashion to consider luxury as one of the greatest na-\\ntional advantages and all the wisdom of antiquity,\\nin that particular, as erroneous. Still, however, I\\nmust remain a professed ancient on that head, and\\ncontinue to think those luxuries prejudicial to states\\nby which so many vices are introduced, and so many\\nkingdoms have been undone. Indeed so much has\\nbeen poured out of late on the other side of the ques-\\ntion, that, merely for the sake of novelty and variety,\\none would sometimes wish to be in the right.\\nI am, Dear Sir,\\nYour sincere Friend,\\nAnd ardent Admirer,\\nOliver Goldsmith.", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "THE DESERTED VILLAGE,\\nSWEET Auburn loveliest village of the plain,\\nWhere health and plenty cheer d the lab ring swain.\\nWhere smiling spring its earliest visit paid,\\nAnd parting summer s lingering blooms delay d:\\nDear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,\\nSeats of my youth, when every sport could please-;\\nHow often have I loiter d o er thy green,\\nWhere humble happiness endear d each scene I\\nHow often have I paus d on every charm,\\nThe shelter d cot, the cultivated farm,\\nThe never-failing brook, the busy mill,\\nThe decent church that topt the neighb ring hill,\\nThe hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,\\nFor talking age and whisp ring lovers made I", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "40 THE DESERTED VILLAGE.\\nHow often have I bless d the coming day,\\nWhen toil remitting, lent its turn to play,\\nAnd all the village train, from labour free,\\nLed up their sports beneath the spreading tre\\nWhile many a pastime circled in the shade,\\nThe young contending as the old survey d\\nAnd many a gambol frolick d o er the ground,\\nAnd sleights of art and feats of strength went round.\\nAnd still as each repeated pleasure tir d,\\nSucceeding sports the mirthful band inspir d;\\nThe dancing pair that simply sought renown,\\nBy holding out to tire each other down\\nThe swain mistrustless of his smutted face,\\nWhile secret laughter titter d round the place\\nThe bashful virgin s side-long looks of love,\\nThe matron s glance that would those looks reprove.\\nThese were thy charms, sweet village sports like these,\\nWith sweet succession, taught e en toil to please\\nThese round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,\\nThese were thy charms.. .But all these charms are fled.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "THE DESERTED VILLAGE. ii\\nSweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn,\\nThy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn\\nAmidst thy bowers the tyrant s hand is seen,\\nAnd desolation saddens all thy green\\nOne only master grasps the whole domain,\\nAnd half a tillage stints thy smiling plain\\nNo more thy glassy brook reflects the day,\\nBut, chok d with sedges, works its weedy way\\nAlong thy glades, a solitary guest,\\nThe hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest\\nAmidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies,\\nAnd tires their echoes with unvary d cries.\\nSunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all,\\nAnd the long grass o ertops the mould ring wall,\\nAnd trembling, shrinking from the spoiler s hand,\\nFar, far away thy children leave the land.\\nIll fares the land, to hast ning ills a prey,\\nWhere wealth accumulates, and men decay\\nPrinces and lords may flourish, or may fade\\nA breath can make them, as a breath has made:\\nK", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "42 THE DESERTED VILLAGE.\\nBut a bold peasantry, their country s pride,\\nWhen once destroy d, can never be supply d.\\nA time there was, ere England s griefs began,\\nWhen every rood of ground maintain d its man;\\nFor him light Labour spread her wholesome store,\\nJust gave what life requir d, bat gave no more\\nHis best companions, innocence and health\\nAnd his best riches, ignorance of wealth.\\nBut times are alter d: Trade s unfeeling train\\nUsurp the land, and dispossess the swain\\nAlong the lawn, where scatter d hamlets rose,\\nUnwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose j\\nAnd every want to luxury allied,\\nAnd every pang that folly pays to pride.\\nThose gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom,\\nThose calm desires that ask d but little room,\\nThose healthful sports that grac d the peaceful scene,\\nLiv d in each look, and brighten d all the green\\nThese, far departing, seek a kinder shore,\\nAnd rural mirth and manners are no more.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 43\\nSweet Auburn parent of the blissful hour,\\nThy glades forlorn confess the tyrant s power.\\nHere, as I take my solitary rounds,\\nAmidst thy tangling walks and ruin d grounds,\\nAnd, many a year elaps d, return to view\\nWhere once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew,\\nRemembrance wakes with all her busy train,\\nSwells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.\\nIn all my wand rings round this world of care,\\nIn all my griefs.. ..and God has giv n my share....\\nI still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,\\nAmidst these humble bowers to lay me down\\nTo husband out life s taper at the close,\\nAnd keep the flame from wasting by repose\\nI still had hopes.. ..for pride attends us still....\\nAmidst the swains to show my book-learn d skill,\\nAround my fire an evening group to draw,\\nAnd tell of all I felt, and all I saw\\nAnd, as an hare whom hounds and horns pursue,\\nPants to the place from whence at first he flew,", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "44 THE DESERTED VILLAGE.\\nI still had hopes, my long vexations past,\\nHere to return.... and die at home at last.\\nO blest retirement, friend to life s decline,\\nRetreats from care, that never must be mine,\\nHow blest is he who crowns in shades like these,\\nA youth of labour with an age of ease\\nWho quits a world where strong temptations try,\\nAnd, since tis hard to combat, learns to fly\\nFor him no wretches, born to work and weep,\\nExplore the mine, or tempt the dang rous deep\\nNo surly porter stands in guilty state,\\nTo spurn imploring famine from the gate\\nBut on he moves to meet his latter end,\\nAngels around befriending virtue s friend;\\nSinks to the grave with unperceiv d decay,\\nWhile resignation gently slopes the way\\nAnd, all his prospects bright ning to the last,\\nHis heaven commences ere the world be past.\\nSweet was the sound, when oft at ev ning s close,\\nUp yonder hill the village murmur rose", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 45\\nThere, as I pass d with careless steps and slow,\\nThe mingling notes came soften d from below\\nThe swain responsive as the milk-maid sung,\\nThe sober herd that low d to meet their young j\\nThe noisy geese that gabbled o er the pool,\\nThe playful children just let loose from school\\nThe watch-dog s voice that bay d the whisp ring wind,\\nAnd the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind;\\nThese all in sweet confusion sought the shade,\\nAnd fill d each pause the nightingale had made.\\nBut now the sounds of population fail,\\nNo cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale,\\nNo busy steps the grass-grown foot- way tread,\\nBut all the blooming flush of life is fled:....\\nAll but yon widow d, solitary thing,\\nThat feebly bends beside the plashy spring;\\nShe, wretched matron, forc d, in age, for bread,\\nTo strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,\\nTo pick her wintry faggot from the thorn,\\nTo seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "46 THE DESERTED VILLAGE.\\nShe only left of all the harmless train,\\nThe sad historian of the pensive plain.\\nNear yonder copse, where once the garden smil d,\\nAnd still where many a garden flower grows wild\\nThere, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,\\nThe village preacher s modest mansion rose.\\nA man he was to all the country dear,\\nAnd passing rich with forty pounds a year\\nRemote from towns he ran his godly race,\\nNor e er had chang d, nor wish d to change his place\\nUnskilful he to fawn, or seek for power,\\nBy doctrines fashion d to the varying hour;\\nFar other aims his heart had learn d to prize,\\nMore bent to raise the wretched than to rise.\\nHis house was known to all the vagrant train....\\nHe chid their wand rings, but reliev d their pain.\\nThe long-remember d beggar was his guest,\\nWhose beard descending swept his aged breast;\\nThe ruin d spendthrift now no longer proud,\\nClaim d kindred there, and had his claims allow d;", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 4?\\nThe broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,\\nSat by his fire, and talk d the night away;\\nWept o er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,\\nShoulder d his crutch, and show d how fields were won.\\nPleas d with his guests, the good man learn d to glow,\\nAnd quite forgot their vices in their woe\\nCareless their merits, or their faults, to scan,\\nHis pity gave ere charity began.\\nThus to relieve the wretched was his pride,\\nAnd ev n his failings lean d to Virtue s side;\\nBut in his duty prompt at every call,\\nHe watch d and wept, he pray d and felt, for all.\\nAnd, as a bird each fond endearment tries,\\nTo tempt its new-fledg d offspring to the skies\\nHe try d each art, reprov d each dull delay,\\nAllur d to brighter worlds, and led the way.\\nBeside the bed where parting life was laid,\\nAnd sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay d,\\nThe rev rend champion stood. At his controul,\\nDespair and anguish fled the struggling soul", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "48, THE DESERTED VILLAGE.\\nComfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,\\nAnd his last fault ring accents whisper d praise.\\nAt church, with meek and unaffected grace,\\nHis looks adorn d the venerable place\\nTruth from his lips prevail d with double sway,\\nAnd fools, who came to scoff, remain d to pray.\\nThe service past, around the pious man,\\nWith steady zeal, each honest rustic ran\\nE en children follow d with endearing wile,\\nAnd pluck d his gown, to share the good man s smile.\\nHis ready smile a parent s warmth express d,\\nTheir welfare pleas d him, and their cares distress d\\nTo them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,\\nBut all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.\\nAs some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,\\nSwells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,\\nThough round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,\\nEternal sunshine settles on its head.\\nBeside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,\\nWith blossom d furze unprofitably gay,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 49\\nThere, in his noisy mansion, skill d to rule,\\nThe village master taught his little school\\nA man severe he was, and stern to view,\\nI knew him well, and every truant knew\\nWell had the boding tremblers learn d to trace\\nThe day s disasters in his morning face\\nFull well they laugh d with counterfeited glee\\nAt all his jokes, for many a joke had he r\\nFull well the busy whisper circling round,\\nConvey d the dismal tidings when he frown d;\\nYet he was kind, or, if severe in aught,\\nThe love he bore to learning was in fault:\\nThe village all declar d how much he knew;\\nTwas certain he could write and cypher too\\nLands he could measure, terms and tides presage,\\nAnd e en the story ran that he could guage\\nIn arguing too, the parson own d his skill,\\nFor e en though vanquish d, he could argue still\\nWhile words of learned length, and thund ring sound,\\nAmaz d the gazing rustics rang d around,\\nL", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "50 THE DESERTED VILLAGE.\\nAnd still they gaz d, and still the wonder grew,\\nThat one small head should carry all he knew.\\nBut past is all his fame. The very spot\\nWhere many a time he triumph d, is forgot.\\nNear yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high,\\nWhere once the sign-post caught the passing eye,\\nLow lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspir d,\\nWhere grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retir d,\\nWTiere village statesmen talk d with looks profound,\\nAnd news much older than their ale went round.\\nImagination fondly stoops to trace\\nThe parlour splendours of that festive place\\nThe white-wash d wall, the nicely sanded floor,\\nThe varnish d clock that click d behind the door\\nThe chest contriv d a double debt to pay,\\nA bed by night, a chest of drawers by day\\nThe pictures plac d for ornament and use,\\nThe Twelve good Rules, the royal Game of Goose\\nThe hearth, except when winter chilFd the day,\\nwith aspin boughs, and flowers and fennel gay;", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 51\\nWhile broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show,\\nRang d o er the chimney, glisten d in a row.\\nVain transitory splendours could not all\\nReprieve the tott ring mansion from its fall?\\nObscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart\\nAn hour s importance to the poor man s heart\\nThither no more the peasant shall repair,\\nTo sweet oblivion of his daily care\\nNo more the farmer s news, the barber s tale,\\nNo more the woodman s ballad shall prevail;\\nNo more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,\\nRelax his pond rous strength, and lean to hear\\nThe host himself no longer shall be found\\nCareful to see the mantling bliss go round;\\nNor the coy maid, half willing to be prest,\\nShall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.\\nYes let the rich deride, the proud disdain\\nThese simple blessings of the lowly train\\nTo me more dear, congenial to my heart,\\nOne native charm, than all the gloss of art", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "52 THE DESERTED VILLAGE.\\nSpontaneous joys, where Nature has its play,\\nThe soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway\\nLightly they frolic o er the vacant mind,\\nUnenvy d, unmolested, unconfin d.\\nBut the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,\\nWith all the freaks of wanton wealth array d,\\nIn these, ere trifiers half their wish obtain,\\nThe toiling pleasure sickens into pain\\nAnd e en while Fashion s brightest arts decoy,\\nThe heart distrusting asks, if this be joy\\nYe friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey\\nThe rich man s joys increase, the poor s decay,\\nTis your s to judge, how wide the limits stand\\nBetween a splendid and a happy land.\\nProud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore.\\nAnd shouting Folly hails them from her shore\\nHoards e en beyond the miser s wish abound,\\nAnd rich men flock from all the world around.\\nYet count our gains. This wealth is but a name\\nThat leaves our useful products still the same.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 53\\nNot so the loss. The man of wealth and pride\\nTakes up a space that many poor supply d;\\nSpace for his lake, his park s extended bounds,\\nSpace for his horses, equipage, and hounds\\nThe robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth,\\nHas robb d the neighbouring fields of half their growth;\\nHis seat, where solitary sports are seen,\\nIndignant spurns the cottage from the green\\nAround the world each needful product fiies,\\nFor all the luxuries the world supplies.\\nWhile thus the land adorn d for pleasure, all\\nIn barren splendour feebly waits the fall.\\nAs some fair female unadorn d and plain,\\nSecure to please while youth confirms her reign,\\nSlights every borrow d charm that dress supplies,\\nNor shares with art the triumph of her eyes\\nBut when those charms are past, for charms are frail,\\nWhen time advances, and when lovers fail,\\nShe then shines forth, solicitous to bless,\\nIn all the glaring impotence of dress", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "54 THE DESERTED VILLAGE.\\nThus fares the land, by luxury betray d,\\nIn nature s simplest charms at first array d;\\nBut verging to decline, its splendours rise,\\nIts vistas strike, its palaces surprise\\nWhile, scourg d by famine from the smiling land,\\nThe mournful peasant leads his humble band\\nAnd while he sinks, without one arm to save,\\nThe country blooms.. ..a garden and a grave.\\nWhere then, ah, where shall poverty reside,\\nTo scape the pressure of contiguous pride\\nIf to some common s fenceless limits stray d,\\nHe drives his flock to pick the scanty blade,\\nThose fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide,\\nAnd e en the bare-worn common is deny d.\\nIf to the city sped.. ..what waits him there\\nTo sec profusion that he must not share\\nTo see ten thousand baneful arts combin d,\\nTo pamper luxury, and thin mankind\\nTo see each joy the sons of pleasure know,\\nExtorted from his fellow-creatures woe.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 55\\nHere, while the courtier glitters in brocade,\\nThere the pale artist plies the sickly trade\\nHere, while the proud their long-drawn pomps display,\\nThere the black gibbet glooms beside the way.\\nThe dome where Pleasure holds her midnight reign,\\nHere, richly deck d, admits the gorgeous train\\nTumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square,\\nThe rattling chariots clash, the torches glare.\\nSure scenes like these no troubles e er annoy\\nSure these denote one universal joy!\\nAre these thy serious thoughts ?....Ah, turn thine eyes\\nWhere the poor houseless shiv ring female lies.\\nShe once, perhaps, in village plenty blest,\\nHas wept at tales of innocence distrest\\nHer modest looks the cottage might adorn,\\nSweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn\\nNow lost to all her friends, her virtue fled,\\nNear her betrayer s door, she lays her head,\\nAnd pinch d with cold, and shrinking from the showV\\nWith heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "36 THE DESERTED VILLAGE.\\nWhen idly first, ambitious of the town,\\nShe left her wheel and robes of country brown.\\nDo thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveliest train,\\nDo thy fair tribes participate her pain\\nE n now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led,\\nAt proud men s doors they ask a little bread\\nAh, no To distant climes, a dreary scene,\\nWhere half the convex world intrudes between,\\nThrough torrid tracts with fainting steps they go,\\nWhere wild Altama murmurs to their woe.\\nFar different there from all that charm d before,\\nThe various terrors of that horrid shore\\nThose blazing suns that dart a downward ray,\\nAnd fiercely shed intolerable day\\nThose matted woods where birds forget to sing,\\nBut silent bats in drowsy clusters cling\\nThose pois nous fields with rank luxuriance crown d,\\nWhere the dark scorpion gathers death around\\nWhere at each step the stranger fears to wake\\nThe rattling terrors of the vengeful snake", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 57\\nWhere crouching tigers wait their hapless prey,\\nAnd savage men more murd rous still than they\\nWhile oft in whirls the mad tornado fiies,\\nMingling the ravag d landscape with the skies.\\nFar different these from every former scene,\\nThe cooling brook, the grassy-vested green,\\nThe breezy covert of the warbling grove,\\nThat only shelter d thefts of harmless love.\\nGoodHeaven! what sorrows gloom d that parting day,\\nThat call d them from their native walks away\\nWhen the poor exiles, every pleasure past,\\nHung round their bowers, and fondly look d their last,\\nAnd took a long farewel, and wish d in vain\\nFor seats like these beyond the western main\\nAnd, shudd ring still to face the distant deep,\\nReturn d and wept, and still return d to weep.\\nThe good old sire the first prepar d to go\\nTo new-found worlds, and wept for other s woe\\nBut for himself, in conscious virtue brave,\\nHe only wish d for worlds beyond the grave,\\nM", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "58 THE DESERTED VILLAGE.\\nHis lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears.\\nThe fond companion of his helpless years,\\nSilent went next, neglectful of her charms,\\nAnd left a lover s for her father s arms.\\nWith louder plaints the mother spoke her woes,\\nAnd blest the cot where every pleasure rose\\nAnd kiss d her thoughtless babes with many a tear,\\nAnd clasp d them close, in sorrow doubly dear\\nWhilst her fond husband strove to lend relief\\nIn all the silent manliness of grief.\\nO, Luxury thou curs d by heaven s decree,\\nHow ill exchang d are things like these for thee\\nHow do thy potions with insidious joy\\nDiffuse their pleasures only to destroy\\nKingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown,\\nBoast of a florid vigour not their own.\\nAt every draught more large and large they grow,\\nA bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe\\nTill sapp d their strength, and every part unsound,\\nDown, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 59\\nE en now the devastation is begun,\\nAnd half the business of destruction done\\nE en now, methinks, as pond ring here I stand,\\nI see the rural virtues leave the land.\\nDown where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail,\\nThat idly waiting flaps with every gale,\\nDownward they move, a melancholy band,\\nPass from the shore, and darken all the strand.\\nContented toil, and hospitable care,\\nAnd kind connubial tenderness, are there\\nAnd piety with wishes plac d above,\\nAnd steady loyalty, and faithful love.\\nAnd thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid,\\nStill first to fly where sensual joys invade\\nUnfit, in these degen rate times of shame,\\nTo catch the heart, or strive for honest fame\\nDear charming nymph, neglected and decry d,\\nMy shame in crowds, my solitary pride\\nThou source of all my bliss and all my woe,\\nThat found st me poor at first, and keep st me so", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "CO THE DESERTED VILLAGE.\\nThou guide, by which the nobler arts excel.\\nThou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well\\nFarewel, and oh where er thy voice be try d,\\nOn Torno s cliffs, or Pambamarca s side\\nWhether where equinoctial fervours glow,\\nOr Winter wraps the polar world in snow\\nStill let thy voice prevailing over time,\\nRedress the rigours of th inclement clime\\nAid slighted Truth with thy persuasive strain\\nTeach erring man to spurn the rage of gain\\nTeach him, that states of native strength possest\\nThough very poor, may still be very blest\\nThat Trade s proud empire hastes to swift decay,\\nAs ocean sweeps the labour d mole away\\nWhile self-dependant power can time defy.\\nAs rocks resist the billows and the sky.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNCH OF VENISON.\\nA POETICAL EPISTLE.\\nTO LORD CLARE.\\nFIRST PRINTED IN 1765.", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNCH OF VENISON.\\n1 HANKS, my Lord, for your ven son, for finer or\\nfatter\\nNever rang d in a forest, or smok d in a platter\\nThe haunch was a picture for painters to study,\\nThe fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy\\nThough my stomach was sharp, I could scarce help\\nregretting\\nTo spoil such a delicate picture by eating\\nI had thoughts, in my chambers to place it in view,\\nTo be shown to my friends as a piece of virtu\\nAs in some Irish houses, where things are so so,\\nOne gammon of bacon hangs up for a show:\\nBut, for eating a rasher of what they take pride in,\\nThey d as soon think of eating the pan it is fry d in.", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "64 THE HAUNCH OF VENISON.\\nBut hold.. ..let me pause....don tIhear you pronounce,\\nThis tale of the bacon s a damnable bounce?\\nWell, suppose it a bounce.... sure a poet may try,\\nBy a bounce now and then, to get courage to fly.\\nBut, my Lord, it s no bounce I protest in my turn,\\nIt s a truth.. ..and your Lordship may ask Mr. Burn*.\\nTo go on with my tale. ...as I gaz d on the haunch,\\nI thought of a friend that was trusty and staunch\\nSo I cut it, and sent it to Reynolds undrest,\\nTo paint it, or eat it, just as he lik d best.\\nOf the neck and the breast I had next to dispose\\nJ Twas a neck and a breast that might rival Monroe s\\nBut in parting with these I was puzzled again,\\nWith the how, and the who, and the where, and the\\nwhen.\\nThere s H....d, and C....V, and H....rth, and H....ff,\\nI think they love ven son....I know they love beef.\\nThere s my countryman Higgins....Oh let him alone,\\nFor making a blunder or picking a bone.\\nLord Clare s nephew.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNCH OF VENISON. 65\\nBut hang it.. ..to poets who seldom can eat,\\nYour very good mutton s a very good treat\\nSuch dainties to them their health it might hurt,\\nIt s like sending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt.\\nWhile thus I debated, in reverie center d,\\nAn acquaintance, a friend as he call d himself, enter d;\\nAn under-bred, fine-spoken fellow was he,\\nAnd he smiFd as he look d at the ven son and me.\\nWhat have we got here ?....Why, this is good eating\\nYour own I suppose.. ..or is it in waiting?\\nWhy, whose should it be? cry d I with a flounce\\nI get these things often: ....but that was a bounce:\\nSome lords, my acquaintance, that settle the nation,\\nAre pleas d to be kind.... but I hate ostentation.\\nIf that be the case then, cry d he very gay,\\nI m glad I have taken this house in my way.\\nTo-morrow you take a poor dinner with me\\nNo words.. ..I insist on t.... precisely at three:\\nWe ll have Johnson and Burke; all the wits will be there;\\nMy acquaintance is slight* or I d ask my lord Clare.\\nN", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "66 THE HAUNCH OF VENISON.\\nAnd now, that I think on t, as I am a sinner\\nWe wanted this ven son to make out a dinner.\\nWhat say you?.... a pasty, it shall, and it must;\\nAnd my wife, little Kitty, is famous for crust.\\nHere, porter.... this ven son with me to Mile-End;\\nNo stirring... I beg... my dear friend... my dear friend I\\nThus snatching his hat, he brush d off like the wind,\\nAnd the porter and eatables follow d behind.\\nLeft alone to reflect, having empty d my shelf,\\nAnd nobody with me at sea but myself;\\nTho I could not help thinking my gentleman hasty,\\nYet Johnson, and Burke, and a good ven son pasty,\\nWere things that I never dislik d in my life,\\nThough clogg d with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife.\\nSo next day, in due splendour to make my approach,\\nI drove to his door in my own hackney-coach.\\nWhen come to the place where we all were to dine\\n(A chair-lumber d clpsset, just twelve feet by nine),\\nSee the letters that passed between his royal highness\\nHenry duke of Cumberland and lady Grosvenor, 12mo,1769.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNCH OF VENISON. 67\\nMy friend bade me welcome, but struck me quite dumb,\\nWith tidings that Johnson and Burke would not come\\nFor I knew it, he cry d both eternally fail,\\nThe one with his speeches, and t other with Thrale\\nBut no matter, I ll warrant we ll make up the party,\\nWith two full as clever, and ten times as hearty.\\nThe one is a Scotsman, the other a Jew,\\nThey re both of them merry, and authors like you\\nThe one writes the Snarler, the other the Scourge\\nSome think he writes China.. ..he owns to Panurge.\\nWhile thus he describ d them by trade and by name,\\nThey enter d, and dinner was serv d as they came.\\nAt the top a fry d liver and bacon were seen,\\nAt the bottom was tripe, in a swinging tureen\\nAt the sides there was spinage and pudding made hot\\nIn the middle a place where the pasty.. ..was not.\\nNow, my lord, as for tripe, it s my utter aversion,\\nAnd your bacon I hate like a Turk or a Persian\\nSo there I sat stuck, like a horse in a pound,\\nWhile the bacon and liver went merrily round", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "68 THE HAUNCH OF VENISON.\\nBut what vext me most, was that d d Scottish\\nrogue,\\nWith his long-winded speeches, his smiles and his\\nbrogue\\nAnd, Madam, quoth he, may thisbit be my prison,\\nA prettier dinner I never set eyes on\\nPray a slice of your liver, though may I be curst,\\nBut I ve eat of your tripe till I m ready to burst.\\nThe tripe, quoth the Jew, with his chocolate cheek,\\nI could dine on this tripe seven days in a week\\nI like these here dinners so pretty and small\\nBut your friend there, the doctor, eats nothing at all.\\nOh ho quoth my friend, he ll come on in a trice,\\nHe s keeping a corner for something that s nice\\nThere s a pasty A pasty! repeated the Jew;\\nI do n t care, if I keep a corner for t too.\\nWhat the de il, mon, a pasty! re-echo d the Scot;\\nThough splitting, I ll still keep a corner for that.\\nW r e ll all keep a corner, the lady cry d out;\\nWe ll all keep a corner, was echo d about.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNCH OF VENISON. 69\\nWhile thus we resolv d, and the pasty delay d,\\nWith looks that quite petrify d, enter d the maid;,\\nA vissage so sad, and so pale with affright,\\nWak d Priam in drawing his curtains by night.\\nBut we quickly found out, (for who could mistake her\\nThat she came with some terrible news from the baker:\\nAnd so it fell out, that the negligent sloven\\nHad shut out the pasty on shutting his oven.\\nSad Philomel thus.. ..but let similies drop....\\nAnd now that I think on t, the story may stop.\\nTo be plain, my good lord, it s but labour misplac d,\\nTo send such good verses to one of your taste\\nYou ve got an odd something... .a kind of discerning....\\nA relish.. ..a taste. .sicken d over by learning;\\nAt least, it s your temper, as very well known,\\nThat you think very slightly of all that s your own:\\nSo, perhaps, in your habits of thinking amiss,\\nYou may make a mistake, and think slightly of this.\\nv", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "RETALIATION:\\nA POEM.\\nFIRST PRINTED IN 1774,\\nAfter the Death of the Author", "height": "3051", "width": "1742", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "ADVERTISEMENT.\\nDr. Goldsmith, and some of his friends, occa-\\nsionally dined at the St. James s coffee-house One\\nday it was proposed to write epitaphs on him. His\\ncountry, dialect, and person, furnished subjects of\\nwitticism. He was called on for Retaliation,\\nand, at their next meeting, produced the following\\nPoem.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "RETALIATION.\\nOf old, when Scarrcn his companions invited,\\nEach guest brought his dish, and the feast was united.\\nIf our landlord* supplies us with beef, and with fish,\\nLet each guest bring himself, and he brings the best\\ndish:\\nOur deanf shall be ven son just fresh from the plains\\nOur Burke:): shall be tongue, with the garnish of brains;\\nOur Will shall be wild fowl, of excellent flavour;\\nAnd Dick** with his pepper shall heighten the savour:\\nThe master of the St. James s coffee-bouse, where\\nthe Doctor, and the friends he has characterized in this\\nPoem occasionally dined.\\nf Doctor Bernard, dean of Derry in Ireland.\\nf Right Hon. Edmund Burke.\\nMr. William Burke, late secretary to general Con-\\nway and member for Bedwin.\\nMr. llichard Burke, collector of Grenada.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "74 RETALIATION.\\nOur Cumberland 6* sweetbread its place shall obtain\\nAnd Douglasf is pudding, substantial and plain\\nOur Garrick s| a salad for in him we see\\nOil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree\\nTo make out the dinner, full certain I am,\\nThat Ridge|| is anchovy, and Reynolds** is lamb;\\nThat Hickey sff a capon, and by the same rule,\\nMagnanimous Goldsmith a goosberry fool.\\nMr. Richard Cumberland, author of the West-Indian,\\nFashionable Lover, the Brothers, and other dramatic\\npieces.\\nf Dr. John Douglas, now bishop of Salisbury, a native\\ncf Scotland, who has no less distinguished himself as a\\ncitizen of the world, than a sound critic, in detecting seve-\\nral literary mistakes (or rather forgeries) of his country-\\nmen; particularly Lauder on Milton, and Bower s History\\nof the Popes.\\nDavid Garrick, Esq.\\njj Counsellor John Ridge, a gentleman belonging to the\\nIrish bar.\\nSir Joshua Reynolds.\\ntf An eminent attorney", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "RETALIATION. 75\\nAt a dinner so various, at such a repast,\\nWho d not be a glutton, and stick to the last?\\nHere, waiter, more wine, let me sit while I m able,\\nTill all my companions sink under the table\\nThen, with chaos and blunders encircling my head,\\nLet me ponder, and tell what I think of the dead.\\nHere lies the good dean,* re-united to earth,\\nWho mixt reason with pleasure, and wisdom with\\nmirth\\nIf he had any faults, he has left us in doubt....\\nAt least, in six weeks I could not find em put\\nYet some have declar d, and it can t be deny d em,\\nThat sly-boots was cursedly cunning to hide em.\\nHere lies our good Edmund,f whose genius was\\nsuch,\\nW T e scarcely can praise it, or blame it, too much\\nWho, born for the universe, narrow d his mind,\\nAnd to party gave up what was meant for mankind.\\nVide page 73. f Ibid.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "76 RETALIATION.\\nThough fraught with all learning, yet straining his\\nthroat,\\nTo persuade Tommy Townshend* to lend him a vote\\nWho, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining,\\nAnd thought of convincing, while they thought of\\ndining\\nThough equal to all things, for all things unfit,\\nToo nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit\\nFor a patriot too cool for a drudge, disobedient\\nAnd too fond of the right to pursue the expedient.\\nIn short twas his fate, unemploy d, or in place, sir,\\nTo eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.\\nHere lies honest William, f whose heart was a mint,\\nWhile the owner ne er knew half the good that was in t;\\nThe pupil of impulse, it forc d him along,\\nHis conduct still right, with his argument wrong;\\nStill aiming at honour, yet fearing to roam,\\nThe coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home\\nMr. T. Townshend, member for Whitchurch,\\nt Vide page 73.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "RETALIATION. 77\\nWould you ask for his merits alas he had none\\nWhat was good was spontaneous, his faults were his own.\\nHere lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at j\\nAlas, that such frolic should now be so quiet\\nWhat spirits were his what wit and what whim\\nNow breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb!*\\nNow wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ball\\nNow teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all\\nIn short, so provoking a devil was Dick,\\nThat we wish d him full ten times a day at old nick\\nBut, missing his mirth and agreeable vein,\\nAs often we wish d to have Dick back again.\\nHere Cumberland! lies, having acted his parts,\\nThe Terence of England, the mender of hearts;\\nMr. Richard Burke; vide page 73. This gentleman\\nhaving slightly fractured one of his arms and legs, at dif-\\nferent times, the Doctor has rallied him on those acci-\\ndents, as a kind of retributive justice for breaking his\\njests upon other people.\\nf Vide page 74.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "78 RETALIATION.\\nA flattering painter, who made it his care\\nTo draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.\\nHis gallants are all faultless, his women divine,\\nAnd Comedy wonders at being so fine\\nLike a tragedy queen he has dizen d her out,\\nOr rather like Tragedy giving a rout.\\nHis fools have their follies so lost in a crowd\\nOf virtues and feelings, that Folly grows proud;\\nAnd coxcombs alike in their failings alone,\\nAdopting his portraits, are pleas d with their own\\nSay, where has our poet this malady caught\\nOr, wherefore his characters thus without fault\\nSay, was it, that vainly directing his view,\\nTo find out men s virtues, and finding them few,\\nQuite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf,\\nHe grew lazy at last, and drew from himself?\\nHere Douglas* retires from his toils to relax,\\nThe scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks:\\nVide page 74,", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "RETALIATION. 7 9\\nCome, all ye quack bards, and ye quacking divines,\\nCome, and dance on the spot where your tyrant reclines\\nWhen satire and censure encircled his throne,\\nI fear d for your safety, I fear d for my own;\\nBut now he is gone, and we want a detector,\\nOur Dodds* shall be pious, our Kenricksf shall lecture;\\nMacpherson^: write bombast, and call it a style,\\nOur Townshend|| make speeches, and I shall compile\\nNew Lauders and Bowers** the Tweed shall cross\\nover,\\nNo countrymen living their tricks to discover\\nDetection her taper shall quench to a spark,\\nAnd Scotsman meet Scotsman, and cheat in the dark.\\nThe Rev. Dr. Docld.\\nf Dr. Kenrick, who read lectures at the Devil Tavern,\\nunder the title of The School of Shakespeare.\\nJames Macpherson, Esq. who lately, from the mere\\nforce of his style, wrdte down the first poet of all anti-\\nquity.\\nJj Vide page 76.\\nVide page 74.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "80 RETALIATION.\\nHere lies David Garrick,* describe him who can,\\nAn abridgment of all that was pleasant in man\\nAs an actor, confest without rival to shine\\nAs a wit, if not first, in the very first line\\nYet, with talents like these, and an excellent heart,\\nThe man had his failings, a dupe to his art.\\nLike an ill-judging beauty, his colours he spread,\\nAnd beplaster d with rouge his own natural red.\\nOn the stage he was natural, simple, affecting\\nTwas only that, when he was off, he was acting.\\nWith no reason on earth to go out of his way,\\nHe turn d and he vary d full ten times a day:\\nThough secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick\\nIf they were not his own by finessing and trick\\nHe cast off his friends, as a huntsman his pack,\\nFor he knew when hepleas dhe could whistle them back\\nOf praise a mere glutton, he swallow d what came,\\nAnd the puff of a dunce, he mistook it for fame\\nVide page 74", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "RETALIATION. 81\\nTill his relish grown callous, almost to disease,\\nWho pepper d the highest was surest to please.\\nBut let us be candid, and speak out our mind,\\nIf dunces applauded, he paid them in kind.\\nYe Kenricks,* ye Kellys,f and Woodfalls| so grave,\\nWhat a commerce was yours, while you got and you\\ngave?\\nHow did Grub-street re-echo the shouts that you rais d,\\nWhile he was be-Roscius d and you were beprais d?\\nBut peace to his spirit, wherever it flies,\\nTo act as an angel, and mix with the skies:\\nThQse poets who owe their best fame to his skill,\\nShall still be his flatterers, go where he will\\nOld Shakspeare, receive him, with praise and with\\nlove,\\n.And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above.\\nVide page 79.\\nMr. Hugh Kelly, author of False Delicacy, Word to\\nthe Wise, Clementina, School for Wives, c. c.\\nI Mr. W. Woodfall, printer of the Morning Chronicle.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "82 RETALIATION.\\nHere Hickey* reclines, a most blunt, pleasant crea-\\nture,\\nAnd slander itself must allow him good nature\\nHe cherish d his friend, and he relish d a bumper\\nYet one fault he had, and that one was a thumper.\\nPerhaps you may ask if the man was a miser\\nI answer, No, no, for he always was wiser\\nToo courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat?\\nHis very worst foe can t accuse him of that:\\nPerhaps he confided in men as they go,\\nAnd so was too foolishly honest? Ah no!\\nThen what was his failing? come tell it, and burn\\nye:....\\nHe was.. ..could he help it?. ...a special attorney.\\nHere Reynoldsf is laid, and, to tell you ray mind,\\nHe has not left a wiser or better behind\\nHis pencil was striking, resistless, and grand\\nHis manners were gentle, complying, and bland;\\nVide page 74.. f Ibid.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "RETALIATION. 83\\nStill born to improve us in every part,\\nHis pencil our faces, his manners our heart\\nTo coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering,\\nWhen they judg d without skill he was still hard of\\nshearing\\nWhen they talk d of their Raphaels, Corregios, and\\nstuff,\\nHe shifted his trumpet,* and only took snuff,\\nPOSTSCRIPT.\\nAFTER the fourth edition of this Poem was\\nprinted, the publisher received the following epitaph\\non Mr. Whitefoord,t from a friend of the late Doctor\\nGoldsmith.\\nSir Joshua Keynolds was so remarkably deaf as to be\\nunder the necessity of using an ear-trumpet in company,\\nt Mr. Caleb Whitefoord, author of many humorous\\nessays.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "POSTSCRIPT TO RETALIATION.\\nHere Whitefoord reclines, and deny it who can,\\nThough he merrily liv d he is now a grave* man\\nRare compound of oddity, frolic, and fun!\\nWho relish d a joke, and rejoic d in a pun:\\nWhose temper was generous, open, sincere\\nA stranger to flatt ry, a stranger to fear\\nWho scatter d around wit and humour at will;\\nWhose daily bons mots half a column might fill\\nA Scotsman, from pride and from prejudice free\\nA scholar, yet surely no pedant was he.\\nWhat pity, alas that so lib ral a mind\\nShould so long be to newspaper essays confin d\\nWho perhaps to the summit of science could soar,\\nYet content if the table he set in a roar;\\nWhose talents to fill any station was fit,\\nYet happy if Woodfallf confess d him a wit.\\nMr. W. was so notorious a punster, that Doctor Gold-\\nsmith used to say it was impossible to keep him company,\\nwithout being infected with the itch of punning.\\nf Mr. II. S. Woodfall, printer of the Public Advertiser.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "POSTSCRIPT TO RETALIATION. 8$\\nYe newspaper witlings ye pert scribbling folks\\nWho copy d his squibs, and re-echo d his jokes\\nYe tame imitators, ye servile herd, come,\\nStill follow your master, and visit his tomb\\nTo deck it, bring with you festoons of the vine,\\nAnd copious libations bestow on his shrine\\nThen strew all around it (you can do no less)\\nCross-readings shifi-news, and mistakes of the press J\\nMerry Whitefoord, farewel for thy sake I admit\\nThat a Scot may have humour, I had almost said wit:\\nThis debt to thy mem ry I cannot refuse,\\nThou best humour d man with the worst humour d\\nmuse.\\nMr. Whitefoord has frequently indulged the town\\nwith humorous pieces under those titles in the Public Ad-\\nvertiser.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "THE HERMIT:\\nA BALLAD.\\nFIRST PRINTED IN 1765.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "LETTER TO THE PRINTER\\nOF THE\\nST. JAMES S CHRONICLE.\\nINSERTED IN THAT PAPER, IN JUNE 1767\\nSir,\\nAs there is nothing I dislike so much as news-\\npaper controversy, particularly upon trifles, permit\\nme to be as concise as possible in informing a corres-\\npondent of yours, that I recommended Blainville s\\nTravels, because I thought the book was a good one\\nand I think so still. I said, I was told by the book-\\nseller that it was then first published but in that, it\\nseems, I was misinformed, and my reading was not\\nextensive enough to set me right.\\nAnother correspondent of yours accuses me of\\nhaving taken a ballad, I published some time ago,\\nfrom one* by the ingenious Mr. Percy. I do not\\nThe Fviar of Orders Gray. Reliq. of Anc. Foetry,\\nvol. i. p. 243.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "90 LETTER, C.\\nthink there is any great resemblance between the two\\npieces in question. If there be any, his ballad is taken\\nfrom mine. I read it to Mr. Percy some years ago\\nand he (as we both considered these things as trifles\\nat best) told me, with his usual good humour, the next\\ntime I saw him, that he had taken my plan to form\\nthe fragments of Shakspeare into a ballad of his own.\\nHe then read me his little Cento, if I may so call it,\\nand I highly approved it. Such petty anecdotes as\\nthese are scarce worth printing and, were it not for\\nthe busy disposition of some of your correspondents,\\nthe Public should never have known that he owes me\\nthe hint of his ballad, or that I am obliged to his\\nfriendship and learning for communications of a much\\nmore important nature.\\nI am Sir,\\nYours, See.\\nOliver Goldsmith.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "THE HERMIT.\\nTURN, gentle Hermit of the dale,\\nAnd guide my lonely way\\nTo where yon taper cheers the vale\\nWith hospitable ray.\\nFor here forlorn and lost I tread,\\nWith fainting steps and slow\\nWhere wilds immeasurably spread,\\nSeem length ning as I go.\\nForbear, my son, the Hermit cries,\\nTo tempt the dangerous gloom\\nFor yonder faithless phantom flies,\\nTo lure thee to thy doom.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "92 THE HERMIT.\\nHere to the houseless child of want\\nMy door is open still\\nAnd though my portion is but scant,\\nI give it with good will*\\nThen turn to-night, and freely share\\nWhate er my cell bestows;\\nMy rushy couch and frugal fare,\\nMy blessing, and repose.\\nNo flocks that range the valley free,\\nTo slaughter I condemn\\nTaught by that Power that pities me,\\nI learn to pity, them:\\nBut from the mountain s grassy side\\nf* A guiltless feast I bring\\nM A scrip, with herbs and fruits supply d,\\nAnd water from the spring.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "THE HERMIT. 93\\nThen, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego\\nAll earth-born cares are wrong:\\nMan wants but little here below,\\nNor wants that little long.\\nSoft as the dew from heav n descends,\\nHis gentle accents fell\\nThe modest stranger lowly bends,\\nAnd follows to the cell.\\nFar in a wilderness obscure\\nThe lonely mansion lay\\nA refuge to the neighb ring poor,\\nAnd strangers led astray.\\nNo stores beneath its humble thatch\\nRequir da master s care;\\nThe wicket op ning with a latch,\\nReceiv d the harmless pair.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "94 THE HERMIT.\\nAnd now, when busy crowds retire,\\nTo take their evening rest,\\nThe Hermit trimm d his little fire,\\nAnd cheer d his pensive guest:\\nAnd spread his vegetable store,\\nAnd gaily prest, and smiPd\\nAnd, skilTd in legendary lore,\\nThe ling ring hours beguil d\\nAround, in sympathetic mirth,\\nIts tricks the kitten tries\\nThe cricket chirrups in the heart\\nThe crackling faggot flies.\\nBut nothing could a charm impart\\nTo soothe the stranger s woe\\nFor grief was heavy at his heart,\\nAnd tears began to flow.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "THE HERMIT. 95\\nHis rising cares the Hermit spy d,\\nWith answering care opprest\\nAnd whence, unhappy youth, he cry VI,\\nThe sorrows of thy breast\\nu From better habitations spurn d,\\nReluctant dost thou rove\\nOr grieve for friendship unreturn d,\\nOr unregarded love\\nu Alas the joys that fortune brings,\\nAre trifling, and decay\\nAnd those who prize the paltry things,\\nMore trifling still than they.\\nAnd what is friendship but a name,\\nA charm that lulls to sleep\\nA shade that follows wealth or fame,\\nBut leaves the wretch to weep", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "96 THE HERMIT.\\nAnd love is still an emptier sound,\\nThe modern fair-one s jest;\\nOn earth unseen, or only found\\nTo warm the turtle s nest.\\nFor shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush,\\nAnd spurn the sex, he said:\\nBut while he spoke, a rising blush\\nHis love-lorn guest betray d.\\nSurpris d he sees new beauties rise,\\nSwift mantling to the view;\\nLike colours o er the morning skies,\\nAs bright, as transient too.\\nThe bashful look, the rising breast,\\nAlternate spread alarms\\nThe lovely stranger stands confest\\nA maid in all her charms.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "THE HERMIT. 97\\nAnd, M Ah, forgive a stranger rude,\\nA wretch forlorn, she cry d;\\nWhose feet unhallow d thus intrude\\nWhere heav n and you reside,\\na But let a maid thy pity share,\\nu Whom love has taught to stray\\nWho seeks for rest, but finds despair\\nCompanion of her way.\\nMy father liv d beside the Tyne,\\nA wealthy lord was he\\nAnd all his wealth was mark d as mine;\\nHe had but only me.\\nTo win me from his tender arms,\\nUnnumber d suitors came\\nu Who prais d me for imputed charms,\\nH And felt, or feign d, a flame.\\nR", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "\u00c2\u00a73 THE HERMIT.\\nEach hour a mercenary crowd\\nWith richest proffers strove\\nAmong the rest young Edwin bow d,\\nBut never talk d of love.\\nIn humble, simplest habit clad,\\nu Nor wealth nor power had he\\nWisdom and worth were all he had,\\nBut these were all to me.\\nThe blossom opening to the day,\\nThe dews of heav n refin d,\\nCould nought of purity display,\\nTo emulate his mind.\\nThe dew, the blossom on the tree,\\nWith charms inconstant shine\\nTheir charms were his, but, woe to me I\\nTheir constancy was mine.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "THE HERMIT.\\nFor still I try d each fickle art,\\nu Importunate and vain\\nAnd while his passion touch d my heart,\\nI triumph d in his pain\\nTill quite dejected with my scorn,\\nHe left me to my pride\\nAnd sought a solitude forlorn,\\nIn secret, where he dy*d.\\nBut mine the sorrow, mine the fault,\\nAnd well my life shall pay\\nI ll seek the solitude he sought,\\nAnd stretch me where he lay.\\nAnd there forlorn, despairing, hid,\\nI ll lay me down and die\\nTwas so for me that Edwin did,\\nAnd so for him will J.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "100 THE HERMIT.\\nForbid it, heav n! the Hermit cry d,\\nAnd clasp d her to his breast:\\nThe wond ring fair-one turn d to chide....\\nTwas Edwin s self that prest!\\nu Turn, Angelina, ever dear,\\nMy charmer, turn to see\\nThy own, thy long-lost Edwin here,\\nRestor d to love and thee.\\nThus let me hold thee to my heart,\\nAnd every care resign.\\nw And shall we never, never part,\\nMy life....my all that s mine?\\nNo, never, from this hour to part,\\nWe ll live and love so true\\nThe sigh that rends thy constant heart,\\nShall break thy Edwin s too.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "TALES, ELEGIES, SONGS,\\nPROLOG ULL, c.", "height": "3051", "width": "1772", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0140.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION:\\nA TALE.\\nSECLUDED from domestic strife,\\nJack Book-worm led a college life;\\nA fellowship at twenty-five\\nMade him the happiest man alive\\nHe drank his glass, and crack d his joke,\\nAnd freshmen wonder d as he spoke.\\nSuch pleasures, unalloy d with care,\\nCould any accident impair\\nCould Cupid s shaft at length transfix\\nOur swain arriv d at thirty-six?\\nO had the archer ne er come down\\nTo ravage in a country town", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0141.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "104 THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION.\\nOr Flavia been content to stop\\nAt triumphs in a Fleet-street shop I\\nO had her eyes forgot to blaze\\nOr Jack had wanted eyes to gaze\\nO But let exclamation cease\\nHer presence banish d all his peace.\\nSo with decorum all things carry d;\\nMiss frown d, and blush d, and then was...marry d.\\nNeed we expose to vulgar sight\\nThe raptures of the bridal night\\nNeed we intrude on hallow d ground,\\nOr draw the curtains clos d around?\\nLet it suffice, that each had charms;\\nHe clasp d a goddess in his arms\\nAnd, though she felt his vissage rough,\\nYet in a man twas well enough.\\nThe honey-moon like lightning flew,\\nThe second brought its transports too\\nA third, a fourth, were not amiss\\nThe fifth was friendship mix d with bliss", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0142.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION. 1C6\\nBut, when a twelvemonth pass d away,\\nJack found his goddess made of clay\\nFound half the charms that deck d her face\\nArose from powder, shreds, or lace\\nBut still the worst remain d behind....\\nThat very face had robb d her mind.\\nSkill d in no other arts was she,\\nBut dressing, patching, repartee\\nAnd, just as humour rose or. fell,\\nBy turns a slattern or a belle\\nTis true she dress d with modern grace,\\nHalf naked at a ball or race\\nBut when at home, at board or bed,\\nFive greasy night-caps wrap d her head.\\nCould so much beauty condescend\\nTo be a (lull domestic friend\\nCould any curtain lectures bring\\nTo decency so fine a thing?\\nIn short, by night, twas fits or fretting\\nBy day, twas gadding or coquetting,\\ns", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0143.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "106 THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION.\\nFond to be seen, she kept a bevy\\nOf powder d coxcombs at her levee;\\nThe squire and captain took their stations.\\nAnd twenty other near relations\\nJack suck d his pipe, and often broke\\nA sigh in suffocating smoke\\nWhile all their hours were past between\\nInsulting repartee, or spleen.\\nThus as her faults each day were known,\\nHe thinks her features coarser grown\\nHe fancies every vice she shows,\\nOr thins her lip, or points her nose\\nWhenever rage or envy rise,\\nHow wide her mouth, how wild her eyes!\\nHe knows not how, but so it is,\\nHer face is grown a knowing phiz\\nAnd, though her fops are wondrous civil,\\nHe thinks her ugly as the devil.\\nNow, to perplex the revelPd noose,\\nAs each a different way pursues,", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0144.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION. 107\\nWhile sullen or loquacious strife\\nPromis d to hold them on for life,\\nThat dire disease, whose ruthless power\\nWithers the beauty s transient flower,\\nLo the small-pox, with horrid glare,\\nLevell d its terrors at the fair\\nAnd, rifling every youthful grace,\\nLeft but the remnant of a face.\\nThe glass, grown hateful to her sight,\\nReflected now a perfect fright\\nEach former art she vainly tries\\nTo bring back lustre to her eyes.\\nIn vain she tries her paste and creams,\\nTo smooth her skin, or hide its seams\\nHer country beaux and city cousins,\\nLovers no more, flew off by dozens\\nThe squire himself was seen to yield,\\nAnd e en the captain quit the field.\\nPoor madam, now condemn d to hack\\nThe rest of life with anxious Jack,", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0145.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "108 THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION.\\nPerceiving others fairly flown,\\nAttempted pleasing him alone.\\nJack soon was dazzled to behold\\nHer present face surpass the old\\nWith modesty her cheeks are dy d,\\nHumility displaces pride\\nFor tawdry finery is seen\\nA person ever neatly clean\\nNo more presuming on her sway,\\nShe learns good-nature every day.\\nSerenely gay, and strict in duty,\\nJack finds his wife a perfect beauty.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0146.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "THE GIFT\\nTO IRIS, IN BOW-STREET, COVENT-GARDEN.\\noAY, cruel Iris, pretty rake,\\nDear mercenary beauty,\\nWhat annual off ring shall I make\\nExpressive of my duty.\\nMy heart a victim to thine eyes,\\nShould I at once deliver,\\nSay, would the angry fair-one prize\\nThe gift, who slights the giver\\nA bill, a jewel, watch, or toy,\\nMy rivals give*. \u00e2\u0080\u00a2\u00e2\u0080\u00a2and let em.\\nIf gems, cr gold, impart a joy,\\nPli \u00c2\u00a3ive them.... when I get em.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0147.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "110 THE GIFT.\\nI ll give.... but not the full-blown rose.\\nOr rose-bud more in fashion\\nSuch short-liv d off rings but disclose\\nA transitory passion.\\nI ll give thee something yet unpaid,\\nNot less sincere than civil\\nI ll give thee.. ..ah! too charming maid,\\nI ll give thee... .to the devil.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0148.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "THE LOGICIANS REFUTED,\\nIN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT.\\nLogicians have but m defin d\\nAs rational the human mind\\nReason, they say, belongs to man,\\nBut let them prove it if they can.\\nWise Aristotle and Smiglesius,\\nBy ratiocinations specious,\\nHave strove to prove with great precision,\\nWith definition and division,\\nHomo est ratione fireditum;\\nBut for my soul I cannot credit em\\nAnd must, in spite of them, maintain,\\nThat man and all his ways are vain", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0149.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "112 THE LOGICIANS REFUTED.\\nAnd that this boasted lord of nature\\nIs both a weak and erring creature\\nThut instinct is a surer guide\\nThan reason, boasting mortals pride\\nAnd that brute beasts are far before em....\\nDeus est anima brutorum.\\nWho ever knew an honest brute,\\nAt law his neighbour prosecute,\\nBring action for assau t and battery,\\nOr friend beguile with lies andflattery\\nO er plains they ramble unconfin d;\\nNo politics disturb their mind\\nThey eat their meals, and take their sport,\\nNor know who s in or out at court;\\nThey never to the levee go,\\nTo treat as dearest friend, a foe\\nThey never importune his grace,\\nNor ever cringe to men in place\\nNor undertake a dirty job,\\nNor draw the quill to write for Bob", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0150.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "THE LOGICIANS REFUTED. 113\\nFraught with invective they ne er go\\nTo folks at Pater-noster row.\\nNo judges, fiddlers, dancmg-masters,\\nNo pick-pockets, or poetasters,\\nAre known to honest quadrupeds\\nNo single brute his fellow leads.\\nBrutes never meet in bloody fray,\\nNor cut each other s throats for pay.\\nOf beast, it is confess d, the ape\\nComes nearest us in human shape j\\nLike man, he imitates each fashion,\\nAnd malice is his ruling passion\\nBut both in malice and grimaces,\\nA courtier any ape surpasses.\\nBehold him humbly cringing wait\\nUpon the minister of state\\nView him soon after to inferiors\\nAping the conduct of superiors\\nHe promises with equal air,\\nAnd to perform takes equal care.\\nT", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0151.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "114 THE LOGICIANS REFUTED.\\nHe in his turn finds imitators\\nAt court, the porters, lackeys, waiters,\\nTheir masters manners still contract,\\nAnd footmen, lords and dukes can act,\\nThus at the court, both great and small,\\nBehave alike, for all ape all.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0152.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "115\\nON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH\\nSTRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING.\\nIMITATED FROM THE SPANISH.\\nSURE twas by Providence design d,\\nRather in pity, than in hate,\\nThat he should be, like Cupid, blind,\\nTo save him from Narcissus fate.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0153.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "116\\nA NEW SIMILE,\\nIN THE MANNER OF SWIFT,\\n-LONG had I sought in vain to find\\nA likeness for the scribbling kind\\nThe modern scribbling kind, who write,\\nIn wit, and sense, and nature s spite:\\nTill reading, I forget what day on,\\nA chapter out of Tooke s Pantheon,\\nI think I met with something there,\\nTo suit my purpose to a hair\\nBut let us not proceed too furious,\\nFirst please to turn to God Mercurius\\nYou ll find him pictur d at full length\\nIn book the second, page the tenth\\nThe stress of all my proofs on him I lay,\\nAnd now proceed we to our simile.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0154.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "A NEW SIMILE. UT\\nImprimis, pray observe his hat,\\nWings upon either side.... mark that.\\nWell! what is it from thence we gather?\\nWhy, these denote a brain of feather.\\nA brain of feather very right,\\nWith wit that s flighty, learning light\\nSuch as to modern bard s decreed.\\nA just comparison.. proceed.\\nIn the next place, his feet peruse,\\nWings grow again from both his shoes;\\nDesign d, no doubt, their part to bear,\\nAnd waft his godship through the air\\nAnd here my simile unites,\\nFor in a modern poet s flights,\\nI m sure it may be justly said,\\nHis feet are useful as his head.\\nLastly, vouchsafe t observe his hand,\\nFill d with a snake-encircled wand\\nBy classic authors term d caduceus,\\nAnd highly fam d for several uses.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0155.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "118 A NEW SIMILE.\\nTo wit.... most wondrously endu d,\\nNo poppy water half so good\\nFor let folks only get a touch,\\nIts\u00c2\u00aboporific virtue s such,\\nThough ne er so much awake before,\\nThat quickly they begin to snore.\\nAdd too, what certain writers tell,\\nWith this he drives men s souls to hell.\\nNow to apply, begin we then\\nHis wand s a modern author s pen\\nThe serpents round about it twin d,\\nDenote him of the reptile kind\\nDenote the rage with which he writes,\\nHis frothy slaver, venom d bites.\\nAn equal semblance still to keep,\\nAlike too both conduce to sleep\\nThis difference only, as the God\\nDrove souls to Tart rus with his rod,\\nWith his goose-quill the scribbling elf.\\nInstead of others, damns himself.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0156.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "A NEW SIMILE. 119\\nAnd here my simile almost tript,\\nYet grant a word by way of postcript.\\nMoreover, Merc ry had a failing\\nWell! what of that? Out with it....Stealing;\\nJn which all modern bards agree,\\nBeing each as great a thief as he\\nBut e en this deity s existence\\nShall lend my simile assistance.\\nOur modern bards why what a pox\\nAre they but senseless stones and blocks", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0157.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "120\\nAN ELEGY\\nON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG.\\nGOOD people all, of every sort,\\nGive ear unto my song\\nAnd if you find it wondrous short,\\nIt cannot hold you long.\\nIn Islington there was a man,\\nOf whom the world might say,\\nThat still a godly race he ran,\\nWhene er he went to pray.\\nA kind and gentle heart he had,\\nTo comfort friends and foes\\nThe naked every day he clad,\\nWhen he put on his clothes.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0158.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG. 121\\nAnd in that town a dog was found,\\nAs many dogs there be,\\nBoth mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,\\nAnd curs of low degree.\\nThis dog and man at first were friends\\nBut when a pique began,\\nThe dog, to gain his private ends,\\nAround from all the neighb ring streets\\nThe wond ring neighbours ran,\\nAnd swore the dog had lost his wits,\\nTo bite so good a man.\\nThe wound it seem d both sore and sad,\\nTo every christian eye\\nAnd while they swore the dog was mad,\\nThey swore the man would die.\\nu", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0159.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "122 ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG.\\nBut soon a wonder came to light,\\nThat show d the rogues they lied;\\nThe man recover d of the bite,\\nThe dog it was that died.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0160.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "m\\nTHE CLOWN S REPLY.\\nJOHN TROTT was desired by two witty peers,\\nTo tell them the reason why asses had ears\\nAn t please you, quoth John, I m not given to\\nletters,\\nNor dare I pretend to know more than my betters\\nHowe er, from this time I shall ne er see your graces,\\nAs I hope to be sav d! without thinking on asses.\\nEdinburgh, 1753.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0161.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "124\\nSTANZAS ON WOMAN,\\nW HEN lovely woman stoops to folly,\\nAnd finds too late that men betray,\\nWhat charm can sooth her melancholy,\\nWhat art can wash her guilt away?\\nThe only art her guilt to cover,\\nTo hide her shame from every eye^\\nTo give repentance to her lover,\\nAnd wring his bosom. ...is, to die.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0162.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "125\\nDESCRIPTION\\nAUTHOR S BED-CHAMBER.\\nWHERE the Red Lion staring o er the way,\\nInvites each passing stranger that can pay;\\nWhere Calvert s butt, and Parsons black champaign,\\nRegale the drabs and bloods of Drury-lane\\nThere in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug,\\nThe Muse found Scroggen stretch d beneath a rug\\nA window, patch d with paper, lent a ray,\\nThat dimly show d the state in which he lay,\\nThe sanded floor that grits beneath the tread,\\nThe humid wall with paltry pictures spread\\nThe royal Game of Goose was there in view,\\nAnd the Twelve Rules the royal martyr drew", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0163.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "126 AN author s bed-chamber.\\nThe Seasons, fram d with listing, found a place,\\nAnd brave Prince William show d his lamp-black face:\\nThe morn was cold, he views with keen desire\\nThe rusty grate unconscious of a fire\\nWith beer and milk arrears the frieze was scor d,\\nAnd five crack d tea-caps dress d the chimney-board;\\nA nightcap deck d his brows instead of bay,\\nA cap by night.. ..a stocking all the day", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0164.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "127\\nLETTER\\nFROM MR. JAMES EOSWELL,\\nCONTAINING A SONG WRITTEN BY OUR AUTHOR,\\nWHICH HAS NEVER BEFORE BEEN PUBLISHED,\\nI SEND you a small production of the late Dr.\\nGoldsmith, which has never been published, and which\\nmight perhaps have been totally lost, had I not secur-\\ned it. He intended it as a song in the character of\\nMiss Hardcastle, in his admirable comedy of She\\nStoops to Conquer but it was left out, as Mrs. Bulk-\\nley, who played the part, did not sing. He sung it\\nhimself, in private companies, very agreeably. The\\ntune is a pretty Irish air, called The Humours of\\nBalamagairy, to which he told me he found it very\\ndifficult to adapt words but he has succeeded very\\nhappily in these few lines. As I could sing the tune,\\nand was fond of them, he was so good as to give me", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0165.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "128 LETTER.\\nthem, about a year ago, just as I was leaving London,\\nand bidding him adieu for that season, little appre-\\nhending th^it it was a last farewel. I preserve this\\nlittle relic, in his own hand-writing, with an affec-\\ntionate care.\\nI am, Sir,\\nYour humble Servant,\\nJames Boswell.\\nTo Mb.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0166.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "129\\nSONG,\\nINTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN THE\\nCOMEDY OF\\nSHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.\\nAh me when shall I marry me\\nLovers are plenty but fail to relieve me.\\nHe, fond youth, that -could carry me,\\nOffers to love, but means to deceive me.\\nBut I will rally, and combat the ruiner\\nNot a look, not a smile, shall my passion discover.\\nShe that gives all to the false one pursuing her,\\nMakes but a penitent, and loses a lover.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0167.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "130\\nSTANZAS\\nON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC.\\nAMIDST the clamour of exulting joys,\\nWhich triumph forces from the patriot heart,\\nGrief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice,\\nAnd quells the raptures which from pleasures start.\\nO Wolfe to thee a streaming flood of woe,\\nSighing we pay, and think e en conquest dear;\\nQuebeck in vain shall teach our breasts to glow,\\nWhilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear.\\nAlive, the foe thy dreadful vigour fled,\\nAnd saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eye;,:\\nYet they shall know thou conquerest, though dead\\nSince from thy tomb a thousand heroes ise.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0168.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "131\\nEPITAPH\\nON DR. PARNELL.\\nTHIS tomb, inscrib d to gentle ParnelTs name,\\nMay speak our gratitude, but not his fame.\\nWhat heart but feels his sweetly-moral lay,\\nThat leads to truth through pleasure s ftow ry way\\nCelestial themes confess d his tuneful aid;\\nAnd heaven, that lent him genius, was repaid.\\nNeedless to him the tribute we bestow,\\nThe transitory breath of fame below\\nMore lasting rapture from his works shall rise,\\nWhile converts thank their poet in the skies.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0169.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "132\\nEPITAPH\\nON EDWARD PURDON.*\\nHERE lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed,\\nWho long was a bookseller s hack;\\nHe led such a damnable life in this world,\\nI don t think he ll wish to come back.\\nMr, Purdon was educated at Trinity-College, Dublin;\\nbut having wasted his patrimony, he inlisted as a foot-sol-\\ndier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his\\ndischarge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers. He\\ntranslated Voltaire s Henriade.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0170.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "133\\nAN ELEGY\\nON THE GLORY OF HER SEX r\\nMRS. MARY BLAIZE.\\nCjOOD people all, with one accord,\\nLament for Madam Blaize,\\nWho never wanted a good word....\\nFrom those who spoke her praise.\\nThe needy seldom pass d her door,\\nAnd always found her kind\\nShe freely lent to all the poor....\\nWho left a pledge behind.\\nShe strove the neighbourhood to please,\\nWith manners wondrous winning\\nAnd never follow d wicked ways....\\nUnless when she was sinning.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0171.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "134 AN ELEGY.\\nAt church, in silks and sattins new,\\nWith hoop of monstrous size,\\nShe never slumber d in her pew....\\nBut when she shut her eyes.\\nHer love was sought, I do aver,\\nBy twenty beaux and more\\nThe king himself has follow d her....\\nWhen she has walk d before.\\nBut now her wealth and finery fled,\\nHer hangers-on cut short all\\nThe doctors found, when she was dead...\\nHer last disorder mortal.\\nLet us lament, in sorrow sore,\\nFor Kent-street well may say,\\nThat had she liv d a twelvemonth more..\\nShe had not died to-day.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0172.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "135\\nA SONNET.\\nVVEEPING, murmuring, complaining,\\nLost to every gay delight\\nMyra, too sincere for feigning,\\nFears th approaching bridal night.\\nYet why impair thy bright perfection\\nOr dim thy beauty with a tear\\nHad Myra follow d my direction,\\nShe long had wanted cause of fear.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0173.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "136\\nSONG,\\nFROM THE ORATORIO OF THE CAPTIVITY,\\nTHE wretch condemn d with life to part,\\nStill, still on hope relies\\nAnd ev ry pang that rends the heart,\\nBids expectation rise.\\nHope, like the glimm ring taper s light,\\nAdorns and cheers the way;\\nAnd still, as darker grows the night,\\nEmits a brighter ray.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0174.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "13f\\nSONG.\\nO MEMORY thou fond deceiver,\\nStill importunate and vain,\\nTo former joys recurring ever,\\nAnd turning all the past to pain\\nThou, like the world, th opprest oppressing,\\nThy smiles increase the wretch s woe\\nAnd he who wants each other blessing,\\nIn thee must ever find a foe.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0175.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "138\\nA FROLOGUE,\\nWRITTEN AND\\nSPOKEN BY THE POET LABERIUS\\nA ROMAN KNIGHT, WHOM CAESAR FORCED UPON\\nTHE STAGE.\\nPRESERVED BY MACROBIUS.*\\nVvHAT no way left to shun th inglorious stage,\\nAnd save from infamy my sinking age\\nScarce half alive, oppress d with many a year,\\nWhat, in the name of dotage, drives me here\\nA time there was, when glory was my guide,\\nNor force nor fraud could turn my steps aside\\nUnaw d by power, and unappal d by fear,\\nWith honest thrift I held my honour dear\\nThis translation was first printed in one of our Au-\\nthor s earliest works, The Present State of Learning in\\nEurope, 12mo, 1759.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0176.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "PROLOGUE. 139\\nBut this vile hour disperses all my store,\\nAnd all my hoard of honour is no more\\nFor ah too partial to my life s decline,\\nCsesar persuades, submission must be mine\\nHim I obey, whom Heaven itself obeys,\\nHopeless of pleasing, yet inclin d to please.\\nHere then at once I welcome ev ry shame,\\nAnd cancel at threescore a life of fame\\nNo more my titles shall my children tell,\\nThe old buffoon will fit my name as well\\nThis day beyond its term my fate extends,\\nFor life is ended when our honour ends.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0177.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "140\\nPROLOGUE\\nTO ZOBEIDE, A TRAGEDY.\\nIN these bold times, when Learning s sons explore\\nThe distant climate and the savage shore\\nWhen wise astronomers to India steer,\\nAnd quit for Venus many a brighter here\\nWhile botanists, all cold to smiles and dimpling,\\nForsake the fair, and patiently.... go simpling;\\nOur bard into the general spirit enters,\\nAnd fits his little frigate for adventures.\\nWith Scythian stores and trinkets deeply laden,\\nHe this way steers his course, in hopes of trading....\\nYet ere he lands, he has order d me before,\\nTo make an observation on the shore.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0178.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "PROLOGUE. 141\\nWhere are we driv n? our reckoning sure is lost!\\nThis seems a reeky and a dangerous coast.\\nLord, what a sultry climate am I under\\nYon ill-foreboding cloud seems big with thunder\\nUpper gallery.\\nThere mangroves spread, and larger than I ve seen\\nem.... [Pit.\\nHere trees of stately size.. ..and billing turtles in\\nem.... [Balconies,\\nHere iil-condition d oranges abound.... [Stage.\\nAnd apples, bitter apples, strew the ground.\\nTasting them*\\nThe inhabitants are cannibals I fear\\nI heard a hissing.... there are serpents here\\nO, there the people are.. ..best keep my distance\\nOur captain (gentle natives) craves assistance;\\nOur ship s well stor d....in yonder creek we ve laid hers\\nHis honour is no mercenary trader.\\nThis is his first adventuve lend him aid,\\nAnd we may chance to drive a thriving trade.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0179.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "142 PROLOGUE.\\nHis goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from far,\\nEqually fit for gallantry and war.\\nWhat, no reply to promises so ample\\nI d best step back.. ..and order up a sample.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0180.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "143\\nEPILOGUE,\\nSPOKEN BY MR. LEE LEWES\\nIN THE CHARACTER OF HARLEQUIN, AT HIS\\nBENEFIT.\\nH.OLD Prompter, hold a word before your non-\\nsense\\nI d speak a word or two, to ease my conscience.\\nMy pride forbids it ever should be said,\\nMy heels eclips d the honours of my head;\\nThat I found humour in a piebald vest,\\nOr ever thought that jumping was a jest.\\nTakes off his maslb.\\nWhence, and what art thou, visionary birth\\nNature disowns, and reason scorns thy mirth;\\nIn thy black aspect ev ry passion sleeps,\\nThe joy that dimples, and the woe that weeps.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0181.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "144 EPILOGUE.\\nHow hast thou fill d the scene with all thy brood,\\nOf fools pursuing, and of fools pursu d!\\nWhose ins and outs no ray of sense discloses,\\nWhose only plot it is to break our noses;\\nWhilst from below the trap-door demons rise,\\nAnd from above the dangling deities\\nAnd shall I mix in this unhallow d crew?\\nMay rosin d lightning blast me if I do 1\\nNo.. ..I will act, I ll vindicate the stage:\\nShakespeare himself shall feel my tragic rage.\\nOff! off! vile trappings a new passion reigns!\\nThe madd ning monarch revels in my veins.\\nOh for a Richard s voice to catch the theme\\nGive me another horse bind up my wounds !....soft....\\ntwas but a dream.\\nAye, twas but a dream, for now there s no retreat-\\ning;\\nIf I cease Harlequin, I cease from eating.\\nTwas thus that iEsop s stag, a creature blameless,\\nYet something vain, like one that shall be nameless,", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0182.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "EPILOGUE. 145\\nOnce on the margin of a fountain stood,\\nAnd cavill d at his image in the flood.\\nThe deuce confound, he cries, these drumstick\\nshanks\\nl They neither have my gratitude nor thanks\\nThey re perfectly disgraceful! strike me dead!\\nu But for a head.. ..yes, yes, I have a head.\\nw How piercing is that eye how sleek that brow\\nu My horns I m told horns are the fashion now.\\nWhilst thus he spoke, astonish d to his view,\\nNear, and more near, the hounds and huntsmen drew.\\nHoicks hark forward came thundering from behind.\\nHe bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind\\nHe quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways\\nHe starts, he pants, he takes the circling maze.\\nAt length, his silly head, so priz d before,\\nIs taught his former folly to deplore\\nWhilst his strong limbs compire to set him free,\\nAnd at one bound he saves himself, like me.\\n[Taking ajumfi through the stage-door,\\nz", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0183.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "146\\nEPILOGUE\\nTO THE COMEDY OF THE SISTERS.\\nWHAT! five long acts.. ..and all to make us wiser!\\nOur authoress, sure, has wanted an adviser.\\nHad she consulted me, she should have made\\nHer moral play a speaking masquerade\\nWarm d up each bustling scene, and in her rage\\nHave empty d all the green-room on the stage.\\nMy life on t, this had kept her play from sinking\\nHave pleas d our eyes, and sav d the pain of thinking.\\nWell, since she thus has shown her want of skill,\\nWhat if I give a masquerade?. ...I will.\\nBut how? ay, there s the rub [/iausing ]....Vve got\\nmy cue:\\nThe world s a masquerade! the masquers, you, you,\\nyou. To Boxes Pit, and Gallery,", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0184.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "EPILOGUE. 147\\nLud what a group the motley scene discloses I\\nFalse wits, false wives, false virgins, and false spouses\\nStatesmen with bridles on; and, close beside em,\\nPatriots in party-colour d suits that ride em.\\nThere Hebes, turn d of fifty, try once more\\nTo raise a flame in Cupids of threescore.\\nThese, in their turn, with appetites as keen,\\nDeserting fifty, fasten on fifteen.\\nMiss, not yet full fifteen, with fire uncommon,\\nFlings down her sampler, and takes up the woman\\nThe little urchin smiles, and spreads her lure,\\nAnd tries to kill, ere she s got power to cure.\\nThus tis with all.. ..their chief and constant care\\nIs to seem every thing but what they are.\\nYon broad, bold, angry spark, I fix my eye on,\\nWho seems t have robb d his vizor from the lion\\nWho frowns, and talks, and swears, with round\\nparade,\\nLooking, as who should say, Dam me! who s afraid?\\n\\\\Mimicking,", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0185.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "148 EPILOGUE.\\nStrip but this vizor*off and sure I am\\nYou ll find his lionship a very lamb.\\nYon politician, famous in debate,\\nPerhaps, to vulgar eyes, bestrides the state\\nYet, when he deigns his real shape t assume,\\nHe turns old woman and bestrides a broom.\\nYon patriot, too, who presses on your sight,\\nAnd seems, to every gazer, all in white,\\nIf with a bribe his candour you attack,\\nHe bows, turns round, and whip.. ..the man s in black\\nYon critic, too.. ..but whither do I run?\\nIf I proceed, our bard will be undone I\\nWell then, a truce, since she requests it too\\nDo you spare her, and I ll for once spare you.\\nTHE END.", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0186.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0187.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0188.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0189.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proce\\nNeutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide\\nTreatment Date: March 2009\\nPreservationTechnologh\\nA WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVAT\\n111 Thomson Park Drive\\nCranberry Township, PA 16066\\n(724)779-2111", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0190.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0191.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3041", "width": "1721", "jp2-path": "poeticalworksofo00gold_0192.jp2"}}