Τ Η Ε T RA V E L L E R. * 5 Remote, unfriended, nielancholy, flow, IS 20 * In this poem several alterations were made, and some new ver added, as it passed through different editions. We have printed from the ninth, which was the last edition published in the lifetime of the author, 30 But me, not destin'd such delights to share, My prime of life in wand'ring spent and care: Impelld, with steps unceasing, to pursue 25 Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view; That, like the circle bounding earth and skies ; Allures from far, yet, as I follow, Aies ; My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, And find no spot of all the world my own. Ev'n now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, I sit me down a pensive hour to spend; And, plac'd on high above the storm's career, Look downward where an hundred realms appear ; Lakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide, 35 The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride. When thus Creation's charms around combine, As some lone miser visiting his store, 50 65 Thus to my breast alternate passions rife, 55 Pleas’d with each good that heav'n to man supplies : Yet ost 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, 60 Where my worn foul, each wandring hope at rest, May gather bliss to see my fellows blest. But where to find that happiest spot below, Who can direct, when all pretend to know? The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own, Extols the treasures of his itormy seas, And his long nights of revelry and ease ; The naked negro, panting at the line, Boasts of his golden sands and palniy wine, Basks in the glare, or ftems the tepid wave, And thanks his Gods for all the good they gave. Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roai, His first, best country ever is, at home. And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, 75 And estimate the blessings which they share, Tho' patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find An equal portion dealt to all mankind. As different good, by art or nature given, To different nations makes their blessings even. 80 Nature, a mother kind alike to all, Still grants her bliss at labour's earnest call; With food as well the peasant is supply'd On Idra's cliffs as Arno's shelvy side ; And though the rocky crested fuminits frown, 85 These rocks, by custom, turn to beds of down, 1 ICO From art more various are the blessings sent ; Go 95 But let us try thefe truths with closer eyes, 105 Could nature's bounty satisfy the breast, 115 120 These here disporting own the kindred soil, But small the bliss that sense alone bestows, 125 130 And evils here contaminate the mind, That opulence departed leaves behind ; For wealth was theirs, not far remov'd the date, When commerce proudly flourish'd through the state ; At her command the palace learnt to rise, 135 Again the long-fal’n column sought the skies ; The canvass glow'd beyond e'en Nature warm, The pregnant quarry teein'd with human form. Till, more unsteady than the southern gale, Conimerce on other shores display'd her fail ; 140 While nought remaind of all that riches gave, But towns unmann'd, and lords without a llave : And late the nation found with fruitless skill Its former strength was but plethoric ill. Yet, still the loss of wealth is here supply'd 145 By arts, the splendid wrecks of former pride ; From these the feeble heart and long-fall’n mind An easy compensation feem to find. Here may be seen, in bloodless pomp array'd, The paste-board triumph and the cavalcade ; 150 |