THT FOLLOWING

LE T

T T E R,

ADDRESSED то THE

PRINTER OF THE ST. JAMES'S CHRONICLE,

APPEARED IN THAT PAPER, IN JUNE,
M DCC LXVII.

SIR,

As there is nothing I dislike so much as news

paper controverfy, particularly upon trifles, permit me to be as concife as poffible in informing a correfpondent of yours, that I recommended Blainville's Travels, because I thought the book was a good one; and I think fo ftill. I faid, I was told by the bookfeller that it was then first published; but in that, it feems, I was mif-informed, and my reading was not extenfive enough to fet me right.

Another correfpondent of yours accufes me of having taken a ballad, I published some time ago,

VOL. 1.

C

from

think there is any great refemblance between the two pieces in question. If there be any, his ballad is taken from mine. I read it to Mr. Percy, fome years ago; and he (as we both confidered thefe things as trifles at beft) told me with his ufual good humour, the next time I faw him, that he had taken my plan to form the fragments of Shakespeare into a ballad of his own. He then read me his little Cento, if I may fo call it, and I highly approved it. Such petty anecdotes as these are scarce worth printing and, were it not for the bufy difpofition of fome of your correfpondents, the public fhould never have known that he owes me the hint of his ballad, or that I am obliged to his friendship and learning for communications of a much more important nature.

I am, Sir,

Yours, &c.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

* The Friar of Orders Gray. "Reliq. of Anc. Poetry." vol. 1. p. 243.

THE

1

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THE

HER MIT.

B A

ALL AD.

TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale,

"And guide my lonely way,

"To where yon taper chears the vale "With hofpitable ray.

"For here forlorn and loft I tread,
"With fainting steps and flow;
"Where wilds, immeafurably fpread,
"Seem length'ning as I go."

"Forbear, my fon," the Hermit cries,
"To tempt the dangerous gloom;
"For yonder faithlefs phantom flies
"To lure thee to thy doom.

My door is open itill;

"And though my portion is but fcant,

"Then turn to-night, and freely share "Whate'er my cell bestows;

My ruffy couch and frugal fare,

"No flocks that range the valley free, "To flaughter I condemn :

Taught by that power that pities me, "I learn to pity them :

"But from the mountain's graffy fide "A guiltless feast I bring;

"A fcrip with herbs and fruits fupply'd, "And water from the spring.

"Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
"All earth-born cares are wrong:
"Man wants but little here below,
"Nor wants that little long."

Soft as the dew from heaven defcends,

His gentle accents fell:

The modeft ftranger lowly bends,

And follows to the cell.

Far

Far in a wilderness obfcure

The lonely manfion lay;
A refuge to the neighb'ring poor
And ftrangers led aftray!

No ftores beneath its humble thatch
Requir'd a master's care;
The wicket op'ning with a latch,
Receiv'd the harmless pair.

And now, when bufy crowds retire
To take their evening reft,
The Hermit trimm'd his little fire,
And chear'd his penfive gueft:

And fpread his vegetable flore,
And gayly preft, and fmil'd;
And, fkill'd in legendary lore,
The lingering hours beguil❜d.

Around in fympathetic mirth
Its tricks the kitten tries;
The cricket chirrups in the hearth;
The crackling faggot flies.

But nothing could a charm impart
To foothe a ftranger's woe;
For grief was heavy at his heart,

And tears began to flow.