Selections from Five English Poets | Page 7

unfriended, melancholy, slow, Or by the lazy Scheld[1] or wandering Po; Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor[2] Against the houseless stranger shuts the door; Or where Campania's plain[3] forsaken lies, 5 A weary waste expanding to the skies; Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee; Still to my brother[4] turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. 10
Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, And round his dwelling guardian saints attend: Blest be that spot where cheerful guests retire To pause from toil, and trim their ev'ning fire: Blest that abode where want and pain repair, 15 And every stranger finds a ready chair: Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned, Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale; 20 Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good.
But me, not destined such delights to share, My prime of life in wand'ring spent and care; Impelled, with steps unceasing, to pursue 25 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, And find no spot of all the world my own. 30
Even now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, I sit me down a pensive hour to spend; And placed on high above the storm's career, Look downward where an hundred realms appear; Lakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide, 35 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? 40 Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can,[5] 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 splendor crowned; 45 Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round; Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale; Ye bending swains,[6] that dress the flow'ry vale; For me your tributary stores combine: Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine. 50
As some lone miser, visiting his store, Bends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er; Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill, Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still: Thus to my breast alternate passions rise, 55 Pleased 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 Some spot to real happiness consigned, 60 Where my worn soul, each wand'ring hope at rest, May gather bliss to see my fellows blest.
But where to find that happiest spot below Who can direct, when all pretend to know? The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone 65 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,[7] Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, 70 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. And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, 75 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, To different nations makes their blessings even. 80
Nature, a mother kind alike to all, Still grants her bliss at Labor's earnest call: With food as well the peasant is supplied On Idra's cliffs[8] as Arno's shelvy side;[9] And though the rocky crested summits frown, 85 These rocks by custom turn to beds of down. From Art more various are the blessings sent; Wealth, commerce, honor, liberty, content. Yet these each other's power so strong contest, That either seems destructive of the rest.[10] 90 Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails And honor sinks where commerce long prevails.[11] Hence every state, to one loved blessing prone, Conforms and models life to that alone. Each to the favorite happiness attends, 95 And spurns the plan that aims at other ends: Till carried to excess in each domain, This fav'rite good begets peculiar pain.
But let us try these truths with closer eyes, And trace them through the prospect as it lies: 100 Here for a while my proper cares[12] resigned, Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind; Like yon neglected shrub at random cast, That shades the steep, and sighs at every blast.
Far to the right, where