| | | REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow, |
| | Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wandering Po; |
| | Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor |
| | Against the houseless stranger shuts the door; |
| 5 | | Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies, |
| | A weary waste expanding to the skies: |
| | Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, |
| | My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee; |
| | Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain, |
| 10 | | And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. |
| | |
| | Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, |
| | And round his dwelling guardian saints attend: |
| | Bless'd be that spot, where cheerful guests retire |
| | To pause from toil, and trim their ev'ning fire; |
| 15 | | Bless'd that abode, where want and pain repair, |
| | And every stranger finds a ready chair; |
| | Bless'd be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd, |
| | Where all the ruddy family around |
| | Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, |
| 20 | | Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale, |
| | Or press the bashful stranger to his food, |
| | And learn the luxury of doing good. |
| | |
| | But me, not destin'd such delights to share, |
| | My prime of life in wand'ring spent and care, |
| 25 | | Impell'd, with steps unceasing, to pursue |
| | Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view; |
| | That, like the circle bounding earth and skies, |
| | Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies; |
| | My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, |
| 30 | | And find no spot of all the world my own. |
| | |
| | E'en now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, |
| | I sit me down a pensive hour to spend; |
| | And, plac'd on high above the storm's career, |
| | Look downward where a hundred realms appear; |
| 35 | | Lakes, forests, cities, plains, extending wide, |
| | The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride. |
| | |
| | When thus Creation's charms around combine, |
| | Amidst the store, should thankless pride repine? |
| | Say, should the philosophic mind disdain |
| | That good, which makes each humbler bosom vain? |
| 41 | | Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can, |
| | These little things are great to little man; |
| | And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind |
| | Exults in all the good of all mankind. |
| | Ye glitt'ring towns, with wealth and splendour crown'd, |
| 46 | | Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round, |
| | Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale, |
| | Ye bending swains, that dress the flow'ry vale, |
| | For me your tributary stores combine; |
| 50 | | Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine! |
| | |
| | As some lone miser visiting his store, |
| | Bends at his treasure, counts, re-counts it o'er; |
| | Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill, |
| | Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still: |
| 55 | | Thus to my breast alternate passions rise, |
| | Pleas'd with each good that heaven to man supplies: |
| | Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall, |
| | To see the hoard of human bliss so small; |
| | And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find |
| 60 | | Some spot to real happiness consign'd, |
| | Where my worn soul, each wand'ring hope at rest, |
| | May gather bliss to see my fellows bless'd. |
| | |
| | But where to find that happiest spot below, |
| | Who can direct, when all pretend to know? |
| 65 | | The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone |
| | Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own, |
| | Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, |
| | And his long nights of revelry and ease; |
| | The naked negro, panting at the line, |
| 70 | | Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, |
| | Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, |
| | And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. |
| | Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam, |
| | His first, best country ever is, at home. |
| 75 | | And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, |
| | And estimate the blessings which they share, |
| | Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find |
| | An equal portion dealt to all mankind, |
| | As different good, by Art or Nature given, |
| 80 | | To different nations makes their blessings even. |
| | |
| | Nature, a mother kind alike to all, |
| | Still grants her bliss at Labour's earnest call; |
| | With food as well the peasant is supplied |
| | On Idra's cliffs as Arno's shelvy side; |
| 85 | | And though the rocky-crested summits frown, |
| | These rocks, by custom, turn to beds of down. |
| | From Art more various are the blessings sent; |
| | Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, content. |
| | Yet these each other's power so strong contest, |
| 90 | | That either seems destructive of the rest. |
| | Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails, |
| | And honour sinks where commerce long prevails. |
| | Hence every state to one lov'd blessing prone, |
| | Conforms and models life to that alone. |
| 95 | | Each to the favourite happiness attends, |
| | And spurns the plan that aims at other ends; |
| | Till, carried to excess in each domain, |
| | This favourite good begets peculiar pain. |
| | |
| | But let us try these truths with closer eyes, |
| 100 | | And trace them through the prospect as it lies: |
| | Here for a while my proper cares resign'd, |
| | Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind, |
| | Like yon neglected shrub at random cast, |
| | That shades the steep, and sighs at every blast. |
| | |
| 105 | | Far to the right where Apennine ascends, |
| | Bright as the summer, Italy extends; |
| | Its uplands sloping deck the mountain's side, |
| | Woods over woods in gay theatric pride; |
| | While oft some temple's mould'ring tops between |
| 110 | | With venerable grandeur mark the scene |
| | |
| | Could Nature's bounty satisfy the breast, |
| | The sons of Italy were surely blest. |
| | Whatever fruits in different climes were found, |
| | That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground; |
| 115 | | Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, |
| | Whose bright succession decks the varied year; |
| | Whatever sweets salute the northern sky |
| | With vernal lives that blossom but to die; |
| | These here disporting own the kindred soil, |
| 120 | | Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil; |
| | While sea-born gales their gelid wings expand |
| | To winnow fragrance round the smiling land. |
| | |
| | But small the bliss that sense alone bestows, |
| | And sensual bliss is all the nation knows. |
| 125 | | In florid beauty groves and fields appear, |
| | Man seems the only growth that dwindles here. |
| | Contrasted faults through all his manner reign; |
| | Though poor, luxurious; though submissive, vain; |
| | Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue; |
| 130 | | And e'en in penance planning sins anew. |
| | All evils here contaminate the mind, |
| | That opulence departed leaves behind; |
| | For wealth was theirs, not far remov'd the date, |
| | When commerce proudly flourish'd through the state; |
| 135 | | At her command the palace learn'd to rise, |
| | Again the long-fall'n column sought the skies; |
| | The canvas glow'd beyond e'en Nature warm, |
| | The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form; |
| | Till, more unsteady than the southern gale, |
| 140 | | Commerce on other shores display'd her sail; |
| | While nought remain'd of all that riches gave, |
| | But towns unmann'd, and lords without a slave; |
| | And late the nation found, with fruitless skill, |
| | Its former strength was but plethoric ill. |
| | |
| 145 | | Yet still the loss of wealth is here supplied |
| | By arts, the splendid wrecks of former pride; |
| | From these the feeble heart and long-fall'n mind |
| | An easy compensation seem to find. |
| | Here may be seen, in bloodless pomp array'd, |
| 150 | | The paste-board triumph and the cavalcade; |
| | Processions form'd for piety and love, |
| | A mistress or a saint in every grove. |
| | By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd, |
| | The sports of children satisfy the child; |
| 155 | | Each nobler aim, repress'd by long control, |
| | Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul; |
| | While low delights, succeeding fast behind, |
| | In happier meanness occupy the mind: |
| | As in those domes, where Caesars once bore sway, |
| 160 | | Defac'd by time and tottering in decay, |
| | There in the ruin, heedless of the dead, |
| | The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed, |
| | And, wond'ring man could want the larger pile, |
| | Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile. |
| | |
| 165 | | My soul, turn from them; turn we to survey |
| | Where rougher climes a nobler race display, |
| | Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread, |
| | And force a churlish soil for scanty bread; |
| | No product here the barren hills afford, |
| 170 | | But man and steel, the soldier and his sword; |
| | No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, |
| | But winter ling'ring chills the lap of May; |
| | No Zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast, |
| | But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest. |
| | |
| 175 | | Yet still, e'en here, content can spread a charm, |
| | Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm. |
| | Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, |
| | He sees his little lot the lot of all; |
| | Sees no contiguous palace rear its head |
| 180 | | To shame the meanness of his humble shed; |
| | No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal |
| | To make him loathe his vegetable meal; |
| | But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, |
| | Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil. |
| 185 | | Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose, |
| | Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes; |
| | With patient angle trolls the finny deep, |
| | Or drives his vent'rous plough-share to the steep; |
| | Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way, |
| 190 | | And drags the struggling savage into day. |
| | At night returning, every labour sped, |
| | He sits him down the monarch of a shed; |
| | Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys |
| | His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze; |
| 195 | | While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard, |
| | Displays her cleanly platter on the board: |
| | And haply too some pilgrim, thither led, |
| | With many a tale repays the nightly bed. |
| | |
| | Thus every good his native wilds impart, |
| 200 | | Imprints the patriot passion on his heart, |
| | And e'en those ills, that round his mansion rise, |
| | Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. |
| | Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, |
| | And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms; |
| 205 | | And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, |
| | Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, |
| | So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, |
| | But bind him to his native mountains more. |
| | |
| | Such are the charms to barren states assign'd; |
| 210 | | Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd. |
| | Yet let them only share the praises due, |
| | If few their wants, their pleasures are but few; |
| | For every want that stimulates the breast, |
| | Becomes a source of pleasure when redrest. |
| | Whence from such lands each pleasing science flies, |
| 216 | | That first excites desire, and then supplies; |
| | Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy, |
| | To fill the languid pause with finer joy; |
| | Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame, |
| | Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame. |
| 221 | | Their level life is but a smould'ring fire, |
| | Unquench'd by want, unfann'd by strong desire; |
| | Unfit for raptures, or, if raptures cheer |
| | On some high festival of once a year, |
| 225 | | In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire, |
| | Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire. |
| | |
| | But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow: |
| | Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low; |
| | For, as refinement stops, from sire to son |
| 230 | | Unalter'd, unimprov'd the manners run; |
| | And love's and friendship's finely pointed dart |
| | Fall blunted from each indurated heart. |
| | Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast |
| | May sit, like falcons cow'ring on the nest; |
| 235 | | But all the gentler morals, such as play |
| | Through life's more cultur'd walks, and charm the way, |
| | These far dispers'd, on timorous pinions fly, |
| | To sport and flutter in a kinder sky. |
| | |
| | To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, |
| 240 | | I turn; and France displays her bright domain. |
| | Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease, |
| | Pleas'd with thyself, whom all the world can please, |
| | How often have I led thy sportive choir, |
| | With tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire! |
| 245 | | Where shading elms along the margin grew, |
| | And freshen'd from the wave the Zephyr flew; |
| | And haply, though my harsh touch falt'ring still, |
| | But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill; |
| | Yet would the village praise my wondrous power, |
| 250 | | And dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour. |
| | Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days |
| | Have led their children through the mirthful maze, |
| | And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore, |
| | Has frisk'd beneath the burthen of threescore. |
| | |
| | So bless'd a life these thoughtless realms display, |
| 256 | | Thus idly busy rolls their world away: |
| | Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear, |
| | For honour forms the social temper here: |
| | Honour, that praise which real merit gains, |
| 260 | | Or e'en imaginary worth obtains, |
| | Here passes current; paid from hand to hand, |
| | It shifts in splendid traffic round the land: |
| | From courts, to camps, to cottages it strays, |
| 264 | | And all are taught an avarice of praise; |
| | They please, are pleas'd, they give to get esteem, |
| | Till, seeming bless'd, they grow to what they seem. |
| | |
| | But while this softer art their bliss supplies, |
| | It gives their follies also room to rise; |
| | For praise too dearly lov'd, or warmly sought, |
| 270 | | Enfeebles all internal strength of thought; |
| | And the weak soul, within itself unblest, |
| | Leans for all pleasure on another's breast. |
| | Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art, |
| | Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart; |
| 275 | | Here vanity assumes her pert grimace, |
| | And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace; |
| | Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer, |
| | To boast one splendid banquet once a year; |
| | The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws, |
| 280 | | Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause. |
| | |
| | To men of other minds my fancy flies, |
| | Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. |
| | Methinks her patient sons before me stand, |
| | Where the broad ocean leans against the land, |
| 285 | | And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, |
| | Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride. |
| | Onward, methinks, and diligently slow, |
| | The firm-connected bulwark seems to grow; |
| | Spreads its long arms amidst the wat'ry roar, |
| 290 | | Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore; |
| | While the pent ocean rising o'er the pile, |
| | Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile; |
| | The slow canal, the yellow-blossom'd vale, |
| | The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail, |
| 295 | | The crowded mart, the cultivated plain, |
| | A new creation rescu'd from his reign. |
| | |
| | Thus, while around the wave-subjected soil |
| | Impels the native to repeated toil, |
| | Industrious habits in each bosom reign, |
| 300 | | And industry begets a love of gain. |
| | Hence all the good from opulence that springs, |
| | With all those ills superfluous treasure brings, |
| | Are here displayed. Their much-lov'd wealth imparts |
| | Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts; |
| 305 | | But view them closer, craft and fraud appear, |
| | E'en liberty itself is barter'd here. |
| | At gold's superior charms all freedom flies, |
| | The needy sell it, and the rich man buys; |
| | A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves, |
| 310 | | Here wretches seek dishonourable graves, |
| | And calmly bent, to servitude conform, |
| | Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm. |
| | |
| | Heavens! how unlike their Belgic sires of old! |
| | Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold; |
| 315 | | War in each breast, and freedom on each brow; |
| | How much unlike the sons of Britain now! |
| | |
| | Fir'd at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, |
| | And flies where Britain courts the western spring; |
| | Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride, |
| | And brighter streams than fam'd Hydaspes glide. |
| 321 | | There all around the gentlest breezes stray, |
| | There gentle music melts on ev'ry spray; |
| | Creation's mildest charms are there combin'd, |
| | Extremes are only in the master's mind! |
| 325 | | Stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state, |
| | With daring aims irregularly great; |
| | Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, |
| | I see the lords of human kind pass by, |
| | Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, |
| | By forms unfashion'd, fresh from Nature's hand; |
| 331 | | Fierce in their native hardiness of soul, |
| | True to imagin'd right, above control, |
| | While e'en the peasant boasts these rights to scan, |
| | And learns to venerate himself as man. |
| | |
| | Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictur'd here, |
| 336 | | Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear; |
| | Too bless'd, indeed, were such without alloy, |
| | But foster'd e'en by Freedom, ills annoy: |
| | That independence Britons prize too high, |
| | Keeps man from man, and breaks the social tie; |
| 341 | | The self-dependent lordlings stand alone, |
| | All claims that bind and sweeten life unknown; |
| | Here by the bonds of nature feebly held, |
| | Minds combat minds, repelling and repell'd. |
| 345 | | Ferments arise, imprison'd factions roar, |
| | Repress'd ambition struggles round her shore, |
| | Till over-wrought, the general system feels |
| | Its motions stop, or frenzy fire the wheels. |
| | |
| | Nor this the worst. As nature's ties decay, |
| 350 | | As duty, love, and honour fail to sway, |
| | Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law, |
| | Still gather strength, and force unwilling awe. |
| | Hence all obedience bows to these alone, |
| | And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown; |
| | Time may come, when stripp'd of all her charms, |
| 356 | | The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms, |
| | Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame, |
| | Where kings have toil'd, and poets wrote for fame, |
| | One sink of level avarice shall lie, |
| 360 | | And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour'd die. |
| | |
| | Yet think not, thus when Freedom's ills I state, |
| | I mean to flatter kings, or court the great; |
| | Ye powers of truth, that bid my soul aspire, |
| | Far from my bosom drive the low desire; |
| 365 | | And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel |
| | The rabble's rage, and tyrant's angry steel; |
| | Thou transitory flower, alike undone |
| | By proud contempt, or favour's fostering sun, |
| | Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure, |
| 370 | | I only would repress them to secure: |
| | For just experience tells, in every soil, |
| | That those who think must govern those that toil; |
| | And all that freedom's highest aims can reach, |
| | Is but to lay proportion'd loads on each. |
| 375 | | Hence, should one order disproportion'd grow, |
| | Its double weight must ruin all below. |
| | |
| | O then how blind to all that truth requires, |
| | Who think it freedom when a part aspires! |
| | Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms, |
| 380 | | Except when fast-approaching danger warms: |
| | But when contending chiefs blockade the throne, |
| | Contracting regal power to stretch their own; |
| | When I behold a factious band agree |
| | To call it freedom when themselves are free; |
| 385 | | Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw, |
| | Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law; |
| | The wealth of climes, where savage nations roam, |
| | Pillag'd from slaves to purchase slaves at home; |
| | Fear, pity, justice, indignation start, |
| 390 | | Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart; |
| | Till half a patriot, half a coward grown, |
| | I fly from petty tyrants to the throne. |
| | |
| | Yes, brother, curse with me that baleful hour, |
| | When first ambition struck at regal power; |
| 395 | | And thus polluting honour in its source, |
| | Gave wealth to sway the mind with double force. |
| | Have we not seen, round Britain's peopled shore, |
| | Her useful sons exchang'd for useless ore? |
| | Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste, |
| 400 | | Like flaring tapers bright'ning as they waste; |
| | Seen opulence, her grandeur to maintain, |
| | Lead stern depopulation in her train, |
| | And over fields where scatter'd hamlets rose, |
| | In barren solitary pomp repose? |
| 405 | | Have we not seen, at pleasure's lordly call, |
| | The smiling long-frequented village fall? |
| | Beheld the duteous son, the sire decay'd, |
| | The modest matron, and the blushing maid, |
| | Forc'd from their homes, a melancholy train, |
| 410 | | To traverse climes beyond the western main; |
| | Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around, |
| | And Niagara stuns with thund'ring sound? |
| | |
| | E'en now, perhaps as there some pilgrim strays |
| | Through tangled forests, and through dangerous ways; |
| 415 | | Where beasts with man divided empire claim, |
| | And the brown Indian marks with murd'rous aim; |
| | There, while above the giddy tempest flies, |
| | And all around distressful yells arise, |
| | The pensive exile, bending with his woe, |
| 420 | | To stop too fearful, and too faint to go, |
| | Casts a long look where England's glories shine, |
| | And bids his bosom sympathise with mine. |
| | |
| | Vain, very vain, my weary search to find |
| | That bliss which only centres in the mind: |
| 425 | | Why have I stray'd from pleasure and repose, |
| | 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, |
| 430 | | That part which laws or kings can cause or cure. |
| | Still to ourselves in every place consign'd, |
| | Our own felicity we make or find: |
| | With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, |
| | Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. |
| 435 | | The lifted axe, the agonising wheel, |
| | Luke's iron crown, and Damiens' bed of steel, |
| | To men remote from power but rarely known, |
| | Leave reason, faith, and conscience all our own. |
First published 1764.
Contributed by Robert Clark.