Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, He gained from heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend. 125 No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God. (1-28) What imagery is familiar by comparison to "Il Penseroso "? What "L'Allegro" nature pictures can no more be appreciated by the dead villagers? (21-24) Note the "true pathos and sublime of human life," which is as old as when Ulysses sought Penelope. (29-52) Under what circumstances did General Wolfe quote lines from this elegy; and how did these lines illustrate dramatic fore-shadowing? What "Il Penseroso" phrase explains "storied urn"? (53-56) In what previously read poem has this thought been analysed? Cf. Pope's "Rape of the Lock," Canto IV. 154-158, and Emerson's "Rhodora." If Dr. Samuel Johnson had written the first draft of (57–60), would he, like Gray, have changed Cato to Hampden, Tully to Milton, and Cæsar to Cromwell? Did Gray make this change in his proper nouns because of romanticism? Comment on non-classicism elsewhere noticeable in the elegy. (93-128) Observe Gray's custom at Stoke-Pogis. What quatrain contains strong reminiscences of "Il Penseroso"? That Gray should have rejected after (116) as parenthetical the stanza, "There scattered oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen, are showers of violets found; shows what characteristic trait of his genius? Dr. Samuel Johnson claimed the "Elegy " to be full of platitudes on life and death. State your opinion. What are the finest felicitous phrases ? OLIVER GOLDSMITH 1728-1774 Nullum ferè scribendi genus non tetigit; nullum quod tetigit non ornavit.— Samuel Johnson. Kindness and gentleness are never out of fashion; it is these in Goldsmith which make him our contemporary.— W. D. Howells. THE DESERTED VILLAGE Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain; 5 Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, 10 The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm, The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill, 15 How often have I blest the coming day, Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspir'd; 30 The matron's glance that would those looks reprove. 35 One only master grasps the whole domain, The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; 45 Amidst thy desert-walks the lapwing flies, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries; Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall; And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, 50 Far, far away thy children leave the land. Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, A time there was, ere England's griefs began, But times are alter'd; trade's unfeeling train And every pang that folly pays to pride. These gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, 70 Those calm desires that ask'd but little room, Those healthful sports that grac'd the peaceful scene, Liv'd in each look, and brighten'd all the green; 75 These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour, Amidst thy tangling walks and ruin'd grounds, And, many a year elaps'd, return to view 80 Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share 85 I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose: I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, 90 Amidst the swains to show my book-learn'd skill, Around my fire an evening group to draw, And tell of all I felt, and all I saw; And, as an hare whom hounds and horns pursue Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, 95 I still had hopes, my long vexations past, Here to return - and die at home at last. O blest retirement, friend to life's decline, Retreats from care, that never must be mine! How happy he who crowns in shades like these 100 A youth of labour with an age of ease; Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep; 105 No surly porter stands in guilty state, To spurn imploring famine from the gate; And, all his prospects brightening to the last, |