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And thought he design'd our religion to alter, When they saw the burnt-offering smoke at the i altar.
The bell's solemn sound, that was heard far and
When my good lord the bishop had heard the
strange story, How the place was profaned that was built to G-r's
glory; Full of zeal he cried out, “ Oh how impious the
deed, “ To cram Christians with pudding, instead of the
o creed !"
Then away to the grove hied the church's protec
Resolving to give his lay brother a lecture;
fore 'em, A haunch piping hot from the sanctum sanctorum. «« Truth!" quoth he, “ I find nò great sin in the
plan, “ What was useless to God to make useful to
man : “ Besides, 'tis a true Christian duty, we read, “ The poor and the hungry with good things to
Then again on the walls he bestow'd consecration, But reserved the full rights of a free visitation : Thus, 'tis still the Lord's house only varied the
treat, Now, there's meat without grace where was
grace without meat.
Goldsmith's career began in misfortunes, and the greater
part of his life was overshadowed by poverty. A simpla, man in the affairs of the world, his imprudences brought with them the meed of vices. But even in indigence he was dear to those who know how to honour talents; and his exquisite good nature attached to him even those who might have hated him for his wit. The Traveller, and DESERTED VILLAGE will to many eyes present serious
truths, to many, the speculations only of a man of genius. He died in 1774, in the possession of such honours as the
friendship of men, high in rank, and abilities could bestow upon him.
FIRED at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, And flies where Britain courts the western spring;
Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride,
Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictured here,
That independence Britons prize too high,
Here by the bonds of nature feebly held,“
Nor this the worst. As nature's ties decay,
* * * * * * *
From “ The Deserted Village."