And, would the noble Duchess deign * Though stiff his hand, his voice though weak, He could make music to her ear. The humble boon was soon obtained; * And then, he said, he would full fain He never thought to sing again. It was not framed for village churls,* * 55 60 65 70 75 He had played it to King Charles* the Good 80 Amid the strings his fingers strayed, 85 90 95 100 ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE.* Gray. THOMAS GRAY (1716-1771) was born in London. He was educated at Eton and Cambridge, where he became Professor of Modern History. Gray left few works, but these are of the most perfect finish. Chief poems: The Elegy, Ode to Eton College, The Bard, and the Ode to Adversity. 5 ΙΟ YE distant spires, ye antique* towers, * And ye that from the stately brow Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among, Ah, happy hills, ah, pleasing shade, Where once my careless childhood strayed, 15 I feel the gales that from you blow 20 As waving fresh their gladsome wing, To breathe a second spring. Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen 25 Who foremost now delight to cleave, The captive linnet which enthral? What idle progeny * succeed * Enthral, to enslave. To chase the rolling circle's speed, 30 Or urge the flying ball? While some on earnest business bent, Their murm'ring labours ply, 'Gainst graver hours that bring constraint* Constraint, confinement. To sweeten liberty; * Eton College on the Thames, near Windsor, is a preparatory college for the Universities 80 85 90 95 100 That mocks the tear it forced to flow; Lo, in the vale of years beneath A grisly troop are seen, The painful family of death, More hideous than their queen : * This racks the joints, this fires the veins, To each his suffering; all are men, The tender for another's pain, Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate? And happiness too swiftly flies; Keen, sharp, cutting Remorse, the gnawing pain of guilt, Moody, gloomy, angry. Racks, torturea, Consuming, wasting away. THE DESERTED VILLAGE.-Goldsmith. OLIVER GOLDSMITH (1728-1774) was born in Ireland, and attended Trinity College, Dublin. After a roving life, for some time spent on the Continent, he settled in London, living at one time as usher in a school. He died in distress and debt. The union of perfect refinement with perfect simplicity is the chief characteristic of his works. Chief works: The Traveller, and The Deserted Village, among his poems; and The Citizen of the World, and The Vicar of Wakefield, among his prose writings. 5 SWEET Auburn! * loveliest village of the plain, swain ; * Where smiling Spring its earliest visit paid, Auburn, the boyhood. And parting Summer's lingering blooms delayed; the poet spent his Swain, a peasant, a servant. Bower, a garden retreat. Cot, a small single house, such as poor people in the country live in. Never-failing brook, there was water in it even in the hottest summer. How often have I paused on every charm ;- * The decent church that topped the neighbouring hill; The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made! How often have I blessed the coming day, Decent, pretty, When toil, remitting, lent its turn to play; simple in struc- And all the village train,* from labour free, ture, becoming. Led Village train, a their sports beneath the spreading tree; While many a pastime circled in the shade, The young contending,* as the old surveyed; And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, And sleights of art and feats of strength went round; number of people one straggling on. Sleights, tricks, clever strokes. Renown, praise, fame. Mistrustless, &c., unsuspicious. The young man is quite ignorant that it is his dirty face at which the lookers - on are laughing. Matron, mother. mur, the low con tinuous sound of many distant voices. up * * And still, as each repeated pleasure tired, 10 15 20 25 The matron's* glance that would those looks re- 30 prove ; These were thy charms, sweet village! sports like these, With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please. Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close, * The village mur Up yonder hill the village murmur rose; swering. Responsive, an. looking, grave. It may also mean here that the mind was free from care, and consequently was light and gay. Copse, a wood of wind; And the loud laugh, that spoke the vacant 35 40 These all, in sweet confusion, sought the shade, And filled each pause the nightingale had made. Near yonder copse,* where once the garden smiled, 45 And still where many a garden flower grows wild, There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,* Mansion, house. The village preacher's modest mansion * rose. small trees. Disclose, show, point out. |