Oliver Goldsmith

“ Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire.
Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast
May sit, like falcons cow'ring on the nest;
But all the gentler morals, such as play
Through life's more cultur'd walks, and charm our way,
These far dispers'd, on timorous pinions fly,
To sport and flutter in a kinder sky.
To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,
We turn; and France displays her bright domain. ”

“ 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 ”

“ Yet still, even here, content can spread a charm,
Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm.
Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small,
He sees his little lot, the lot of all;
Sees no contiguous palace rear its head
To shame the meanness of his humble shed;
No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal
To make him loath his vegetable meal;
But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,
Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil. ”

“ His childrens looks, that brighten at the blaze:
While his lov'd partner boastful of her hoard,
Displays the cleanly platter on the board;
And haply too some pilgrim, thither led,
With many a tale repays the nightly bed. ”

“ Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel,
To men remote from power but rarely known,
Leave reason, faith and conscience all our own. ”

“ But winter lingering chills the lap of May; ”

“ The canvas glow'd beyond even Nature warm,
The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form. ”

“ These things are great to little man; ”