may be equal happiness in states that are differently governed from our own; that every state has a particular principle of happiness, and that this principle in each may be carried to a mischievous excess. There are few can judge better than yourself how far these positions are illustrated in this poem, I am, dear Sir, Your most affectionate brother, OLIVER GOLDSMITH. THE TRAVELLER. REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow, Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, And round his dwelling guardian saints attend; Blest be that spot, where cheerful guests retire Το pause from toil, and trim their ev'ning fire; Blest that abode, where want and pain repair, Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crown'd, Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale; Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good. But me, not destin'd such delights to share, My prime of life in wand'ring spent and care; Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view; My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, E'en now, where alpine solitudes ascend, I sit me down a pensive hour to spend; The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride. |