And all the village train, from labour free,
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree!
While many a pastime circled in the shade,
The young contending as the old survey'd ;
And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground,
And sleights of art, and feats of strength went round;
And still, as each repeated pleasure tired,
Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired.
The dancing pair that simply sought renown,
By holding out to tire each other down;
The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,
While secret laughter titter'd round the place;
The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love;
The matron's glance, that would those looks reprove;
These were thy charms, sweet village! sports like these,
With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please;
These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,
These were thy charms-but all these charms are fled.
Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn,
Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn ;
Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen,
And Desolation saddens all thy green :
One only master grasps the whole domain,1
And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain;
No more thy glassy brook reflects the day,
But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way;
Along thy glades, a solitary guest,
The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest;
Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies,
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries;
Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all,
And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall;
One only master grasps the whole domain.-General Robert Napier, to whom these lines seem to refer, purchased the estates of Lord Dillon, including Lissoy, in 1730. Desiring to enclose a demesne of nine miles, he ejected all the tenants (with the exception of the Goldsmiths), to the number of some hundred persons, many of whom emigrated to America. The Napier estate became the subject of a protracted litigation about a century ago, which was not brought to a close till after 1838, when Lissoy was sold. A professional gentleman concerned in the sale thus concludes some interesting details with which he kindly furnished me :-" When we were preparing the advertisement, it was a question whether or not it should be stated that the place was the scene of 'The Deserted Village;' but on full consideration, it was decided that such a reference might have a very discouraging effect on the majority of intending purchasers, and the allusion was abandoned."
And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,
Far, far away thy children leave the land.
Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,1
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay :
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade;
A breath can make them, as a breath has made;
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Á time there was, ere England's griefs began,2
When every rood of ground maintained its man;
For him light Labour spread her wholesome store,
Just gave what life required, but gave no more;
His best companions, innocence and health;
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.
But times are altered; trade's unfeeling train
Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain;
Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose,
Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose;
And every want to luxury allied,
And every pang that folly pays to pride.
Those gentler hours that plenty bade to bloom,
Those calm desires that ask'd but little room,
Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful scene,
Lived in each look, and brighten'd all the green;
These, far departing, seek a kinder shore,
And rural mirth and manners are no more.
Sweet Auburn, parent of the blissful hour,
Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power.
Here, as I take my solitary rounds,
Amidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds,
And, many a year elapsed, return to view3
Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew,
Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey —This line betrays a want of care, unusual with Goldsmith, in the use of nearly the same word twice. It is to be regretted that anything should mar the beauty of this justly celebrated passage.
A time there was, ere England's griefs began.—It is plain that, wherever the scene of the poem was laid, the principle intended to be illustrated was applied to England as well as to Ireland.
3 And, many a year elapsed, return to view.-There is no reason to suppose (as some infer from this line) that Goldsmith ever re-visited the scenes of his youth, though he certainly intended to do so, after his travels. This and the following exquisite paragraph breathe that inextinguishable love of home (amounting to pain) which pervades so many of the poet's letters and compositions.
Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.
In all my wanderings through this world of care,
In all my griefs-and God has given my share-
I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,
Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;
To husband out life's taper at the close,
And keep the flame from wasting by repose:
I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,
Amidst the swains to show my book-learn'd skill;
Around my fire an evening group to draw,
And tell of all I felt, and all I saw :
And, as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue,
Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,
I still had hopes, my long vexations past,
Here to return-and die at home at last.
Oh, blest retirement, friend to life's decline,
Retreat from cares, that never must be mine,
How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these,
A youth of labour with an age of ease;
Who quits a world where strong temptations try,
And since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly!
For him no wretches, born to work and weep,
Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep;
Nor surly porter stands in guilty state,
To spurn imploring famine from the gate;
But on he moves to meet his latter end,
Angels around befriending virtue's friend ;
Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay,
While resignation' gently slopes the way;
And, all his prospects brightening to the last,
His heaven commences ere the world be past.
Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close,
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose;
1 Resignation. This description suggested to Reynolds his picture of "Resignation,” which he dedicated to Goldsmith. Up yonder hill.-In front of the old parsonage house at Lissoy is a hill called Knockaruadh (the Red Hill), and now "Goldsmith's Mount," which superstition peopled with fairies. The poet, as a boy, loved to loiter there, and, as he says, "take in to me the most pleasing horizon in Nature." From it the scenery and objects described in the poem were all visible.
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