The poetical works of Oliver Goldsmith. With remarks attempting to ascertain the actual scene of the deserted village, by R.H. Newell

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Էջ 33 - grows wild, There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 140 A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had chang'd,
Էջ 33 - where many a garden flow'r grows wild, There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 140 A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place;
Էջ 33 - the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head. Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way With blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay, . There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule,
Էջ 11 - To seek a good each government bestows ? In every government, though terrors reign, Though tyrant kings or tyrant laws restrain, How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure! Still to ourselves in every place consign'd,
Էջ 140 - STANZAS ON WOMAN. FROM THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray; What charm can sooth her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye,
Էջ 33 - The village master taught his little school: A man severe he was, and stern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace The day's disasters in his morning face; 200 Full well they
Էջ 33 - To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art; Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play, 255 The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway; Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, Unenvy'd, unmolested, unconfin'd. But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd,
Էջ 133 - short, It cannot hold you long. In Isling-town there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran— Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad— When he put on his clothes.
Էջ 33 - Twas certain he could write and cipher too; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, And ev'n the story ran that, he could gauge: 210 In arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill, For ev'n though vanquish'd he could argue still; While words of learned length, and thundering sound. • Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around;
Էջ 33 - splendors of that festive place; The white-wash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door: The chest contriv'da double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; 230 The pictures plac'd for ornament and use, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose; The hearth, except when winter

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