Here passes current; paid from hand to hand,
It shifts, in splendid traffic, round the land;
From courts to camps, to cottages it strays,
And all are taught an avarice of praise.
They please, are pleas'd; they give to get esteem,
Till, seeming blest, 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,
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;
llere 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,
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,
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 watery roar,
Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore..
While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile,

Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile;

"There is, perhaps, no couplet in English rhyme more perspicuously condensed than those two lines of The Traveller' in which the author describes the at once flattering, vain, and happy character of the French."-CAMPBELL, British Poets, vol. vi. p. 262.

1

The slow canal, the yellow-blossom'd vale,
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail,
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,
A new creation rescued from his reign.'

Thus, while around the wave-subjected soil
Impels the native to repeated toil,
Industrious habits in each bosom reign,"
And industry begets a love of gain.

Hence all the good from opulence that springs,
With all those ills superfluous treasure brings,

Are here display'd. Their much-lov'd wealth imparts
Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts:

But view them closer, craft and fraud appear,
Even 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,
Here wretches seek dishonorable 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;

War in each breast, and freedom on each brow!
How much unlike the sons of Britain now!

"But we need scarce mention these, when we find that the whole Republic of Holland seems to be a conquest upon the sea, and in a manner rescued from its bosom. The surface of the earth in this country is below the level of the bed of the sea; and I remember, upon approaching the coast, to have looked down upon it from the sea as into a valley.”—History of Animated Nature, vol. i. p. 276, ed.

1774.

2

"Industrious habits in each breast obtain."

First Edition, altered in Second.

3 "Into what a state of misery are the modern Persians fallen! A nation famous for setting the world an example of freedom is now become a land of tyrants and a den of slaves.”—The Citizen of the World, Letter xxxv.

4.66 How unlike the brave peasants, their ancestors, who spread terror to either India, and always declared themselves the allies of those who drew the sword in defence of freedom!”—MS. Introduction to History of the Seven Years' War.

1

2

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.
There, all around, the gentlest breezes stray,
There gentle music melts on every spray;
Creation's mildest charms are there combin'd:
Extremes are only in the master's mind.
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 humankind pass by;'
Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band,
By forms unfashion'd, fresh from Nature's hand,
Fierce in their native hardiness of soul,"

True to imagin'd right, above control;

While even the peasant boasts these rights to scan,
And learns to venerate himself as man.'

Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictur'd here,
Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear;
Too blest, indeed, were such without alloy,
But, foster'd even by freedom, ills annoy.
That independence Britons prize too high
Keeps man from man, and breaks the social tie;
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;

"I see the lords of humankind pass by,
Pride in their port, defiance in their eye."

First Edition, altered in Second.

"Fierce in a native," etc.-First Edition, altered in Second.

"23d Oct., 1773.-We talked of Goldsmith's 'Traveller,' of which Dr. Johnson spoke highly; and, while I was helping him on with his great-coat, he repeated from it the character of the British nation; which he did with such energy that the tear started into his eye."-BOSWELL by Croker, p. 384.

"See, though by circling deeps together held."

First Edition, altered in Second.

Ferments arise, imprison'd factions roar,
Represt ambition struggles round her shore,
Till, overwrought, the general system feels
Its motions stop, or frenzy fire the wheels.

Nor this the worst. As Nature's ties decay,' As duty, love, and honor 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; Till time may come, when, stript of all her charins, 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,2 One sink of level avarice shall lie,

And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonor'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!"
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 favor's fostering sun,
Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure!
I only would repress them to secure:

For just experience tells, in every soil,

That those who think must govern those that toil;

"Nor this the worst. As social bonds decay."

First, Second, and Third Editions.

2 "And monarchs toil, and poets pant for fame."

First, Second, and Third Editions.

"Perish the wish; for, inly satisfied,

Above their pomps I hold my ragged pride."

First Edition, altered in Second.

And all that Freedom's highest aims can reach
Is but to lay proportion'd loads on each.
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,
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;
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,

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;
And thus, polluting honor 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?'

"As the Roman senators, by slow and imperceptible degrees, became masters of the people, yet still flattered them with a show of freedom while themselves only were free, so is it possible for a body of men, while they stand up for privileges, to grow into an exuberance of power themselves, and the public become actually dependent, while some of its individuals only govern."-The Citizen of the World, Letter 1.

"What they may then expect may be seen by turning our eyes to Holland, Genoa, or Venice, where the laws govern the poor, and the rich govern the law." -The Vicar of Wakefield, chap. xix.

ફ્ In this and in subsequent couplets may be traced the germ of "The Deserted Village."