THE

DESERTED VILLAGE:

BY Dr. GOLDSMITH.

THE

DESERTED VILLAGE.

SWEET Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheer'd the lab'ring

swain;

Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,

And parting summer's ling'ring blooms delay'd;

Dear lovely bow'rs of innocence and ease,

Seats of my youth, when ev'ry sport could please, How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green,

Where humble happiness endear'd each scene! How often have I paus'd on ev'ry charm,

The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm,

The never-failing brook, the busy mill,

The decent church that topp'd the neighb'ring

hill,

The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,
For talking age and whispering lovers made!
How often have I bless'd the coming day,
When toil remitting lent its turn to play;
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 slights of art and feats of strength went round.
And still, as each repeated pleasure tir'd,
Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspir'd;

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 sidelong looks of love,

The matron's glance that would those looks re

prove. }

These were thy charms, fweet village! sports like

these,

With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please: These round thy bow'rs 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 loveliest of the lawn, Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn ; Amidst thy bow'rs the tyrant's hand is seen, And desolation saddens all thy green :

One only master grasps the whole domain,
And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain.
No more thy glassy brook reflects the day,
But, chok'd with sedges, works its weedy way;