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Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies,
Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend,
But me, not destin'd such delights to share,
* [" The farther I travel, I feel the pain of separation with stronger force ; those ties that bind me to my native country and you, are still unbroken. By every remove I only drag a greater length of chain.”—Citizen of the World. See vol. ii. p. 21.
† ["Blest be those feasts where mirth and peace abound.”—First edit.)
For all their luxury was doing good."--GARTH.) $ “When will my wanderings be at an end? When will my restless
That, like the circle bounding earth and skies,
Ev'n now, where Alpine solitudes ascend,
When thus Creation's charms around combine,
disposition give me leave to enjoy the present hour? When at Lyons, I thought all happiness lay beyond the Alps ; when in Italy, I found myself still in want of something, and expected to leave solitude behind me by going into Romelia ; and now you find me turning back, still expecting ease every where but where I am.”—The Bee, See vol. i. p. 28.)
* " Death, the only friend of the wretched, for a little while mocks the weary traveller with the view, and like his horizon still flies before him.”Vicar of Wakefield, ch. xxix.] † [Imit.—“My destin'd miles I shall have gone,
By Thames or Mease, by Po or Rhone,
And found no foot of earth my own."-PRIOR.)
To spurn the splendid things by heaven supply'd.”-First edit.)
Exults in all the good of all mankind.
As some lone miser, visiting his store, Bends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er ; Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill, Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still: Thus to my breast alternate passions rise, Pleas'd with each good that Heaven to man supplies : Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall, To see the hoard of human bliss so small;* And oft I wish, amidst the scene to find, Some spot to real happiness consign'd, Where my worn soul, each wandering hope at rest, May gather bliss to see my fellows blest.
But, where to find that happiest spot below,t
"[" To see the sum of human bliss so small." -First edit.)
["Boldly asserts that country for his own.”-First edit.)
Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave,
Nature, a mother kind alike to all, Still grants her bliss at labor's earnest call; With food as well the peasant is supplied On Idra's cliffs as Arno's shelvy side; And though the rocky crested summits frown, These rocks, by custom, turn to beds of down. From art more various are the blessings sent; Wealth, commerce, honor, liberty, content. Yet these each other's power so strong contest, That either seems destructive of the rest. Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails, And honor sinks where commerce long prevails. Hence every state to one lov'd blessing prone, Conforms and models life to that alone.
(“And yet, perhaps, if states with states we scan,
Or estimate their bliss on reason's plan,
And patriotic boasting reason's shame.”-First edit.)
Each to the fav'rite happiness attends,
But let us try these truths with closer eyes, And trace them through the prospect as it lies: Here for a while my proper cares resign'd, Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind; Like yon neglected shrub at random cast, That shades the steep, and sighs at every blast
Far to the right where Apennine ascends, Bright as the summer, Italy extends; Its uplands sloping deck the mountain's side, Woods over woods in gay theatric pride : While oft some temple's mould’ring tops between, With venerable grandeur mark the scene.
Could Nature's bounty satisfy the breast, The sons of Italy were surely blest. Whatever fruits in different climes were found, That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground; Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, Whose bright succession decks the varied year; Whatever sweets salute the northern sky With vernal lives, that blossom but to die; These here disporting own the kindred soil, Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil; While sea-born gales their gelid wings expand To winnow fragrance round the smiling land.