The deserted village

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Presented to the

LIBRARY of the
UNIVERSITY OF TOROxVTO

by

MRS. H. M. JERGUSO^

The Illustnitions in this Volume are copied^ xvith permission^
from a series of Etchings published some years since hy the
** Etching Club." Only a few impressions of that work were
printed^ the copper-plates were destroyed^ and the hook^ except
in a very expensive for?n^ has long been unattainable. Great
care has been taken to render the present IVood-blocks as like
the Original Etchings as the different methods of engraving zvill
,iltoi:>.

Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive

in 2008 with funding from

IVIicrosoft Corporation

littp://www.arcliive.org/details/desertedvillageOOgolduoft

l^HE

DESERTED VILLAGE

BY

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

Illustrated by the Etching Club.

LONDON : published for JOSEPH CUNDALL

BY SAMPSON LOU AND SON, 47 LUUGATE HILL.
MUgCt'LV. J

/

Si:RVICtS

DATE .

T.O>iLON :

l> H I N r E U b V R 1 C t£, i H. IJ

UUEAD SIRILEI' HIl-L,

ILLUSTRATIONS.

Sweet Auburn/ loveliest villafje of the plain . . . T. Creswick, ll.A. . 7

The nevef-falUny brook, the busi/ mill T. Creswick, ll.A. . 8

Tfie hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade . . C. W. Coi'E, R.A. . 9

The matron's fjlance that would those looks reprore . H. J. Towxsknd. . 10

The hollow-soundinrj bittern guards its nest . . . . F. Tayleu ... 12

Tltese, far departing, seelc a Tcinder shore .... C. Stoniiouse . . 14

Amidst the swains to shoro my boolc-learn'd sli II . . J. C. Horsley . . 15

And, as a hare, wham hounds and horns 2'U> sue . . F. Tayi.er . . . 10

To spurn imploring famine from the gate .... C. W. Coi'E, R.A. . 17

While resignation gently slopes the wag .... T. Creswick, E.A. . 18

The playful children just kt loose from school . . . T. Webster, R.A. . 19

All but yon widow'd solitary thing F. Tayler . . . 2ii

2'he village preacher 8 modest 7naiision rose . . . . T. Ci;eswick, R.A. . 21

Jle chid their wanderings, but relieved their jjain . . C. W. Core, R A. . 22

Shoulder d his crutch, and show'd how fields were %eoa C. W. CVji'E, R.A. . 23

Beside the bed where parting life icas laid .... R. Redlirave, 1{.A. . 25

ILLUSTRATIONS.

A lid pJach'd his fjown, to share the good mans smile
The v'lUarje master taught his Utile school . .
J-'ull well they laugh'd loith counterfeited glee .
Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frown d .
In arguimj too the jiarson ownd his shill .
Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high
Where village statesmen talk'd with looJcs profouia
But the long po7np, the midnight masquerade .
Proud sivclls the tide with loads of freighted ore
[f to some conwion's fenceless limit stray d .
Where the poor houseless shivering female lies .
Hhe left her wheel and robes of country hroivn .
The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake . .
The cooling brook, the grassy-vested green . .
The good old sire the first prepared to go . .
Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief .
Doivn where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail
Or winter loraps the polar world in snow . . .
As rocks re.tist the billows and the sky ....

.f. C HoHsr.EY .
T. WjinsTEn, R.A.
T. AVebster, II. a.
T. Webster, R.A.
C. W. Cope, R.A.
T. Creswick, R.A.
F. Tayler . .
J. C. Horsley .
T. Creswick, R.A.
C. Stonhouse
J. C. Horsley .
J. C. Horsley .
T. Creswick, R.A.
T. Creswick, R.A.
C. W. Cope, R.A.
R. Redgrave, R.A.
T. Ckeswick, R.A.
T. Creswick, R.A.
T. Creswick, R.A.

2(5

2S
28
29
30
31
33
•34
3(3
37
38
40
41
42
43
44
4.5
4(]

Uravn on wood, from the original Etcliings, by E. K. Johnson, and engraved by
Horace Hahrat., Thomas Bot.tov, and Jamf.s Coopfr.

THE DESERIED VILLAGE.

Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty checr'd the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,
And parting summer's lingering blooms delay'd.

THE DESERTED VILLAGE.

Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,

Seats of my youth, when every sport could please.

■^^

How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green,
Where humble happiness endear'd each scene !
How often have I paused on every charm.
The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm,

THE DESERTED VII.LACiE.

The nevcr-fciiling brook, the busy mill,

The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill,

. v.'^lfe^^VV^^;.;^-^.^^^^^^

The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade.
For talking age and whispering lovers made!
How often have I blest the coining day,
When toil remitting lent its turn to play,

JHF. DESERTED \ir,f. \(,K.

And all rhc village train, from labour free,
fycd up their sports beneath the spreading tree

While many a pastime circled in the shade,

The young contending as the old survey'd;

And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground,

And sleights of art and feats of strength went round;

THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 11

And still, as each repeated pleasure tired,

Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired :

The dancing pair that simply sought renown,

By holding out to tire each other down ;

The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,

While secret laughter titter'd round the place;

The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love,

The matron's glance that would those looks reprove ;

These were thy charms, sweet village ! sports like these.

With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please j

These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,

These were thy charms — but all these charms are fled.

Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn !
Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn;
Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen,
And desolation saddens all thy green:
One only master grasps the whole domain.
And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain:
No more thy glassy brook reflects the day.
But choked with sedges works its weedy way;
Along thy glades a solitary guest,
The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest;

qr£«M.l,l-<^ L\c\A^i

12

THK DESERTED \' ILL AGE.

Amidst thy tlescrt 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,
Far, far away thy children leave the land.

/"v ^ (o 1 ^,o\

THK OKSERIKD \'ILLAC;E, I3

111 fares the hind, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, anil men decay;
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade;
A breath can make them, as a breath has made :
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
VVhen once destroy'd, can never be supplied.

A time there was, ere England's griefs began.
When every rood of ground maintain'd its iiian ;
For him light labour spread her wholesome store,
Tust gave what life required, but gave no more:
His best companions, innocence and health;
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.

But times are alter'd; trade's unfeeling train
Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain;
AlonT the lawn, where scatter'd hamlets rose.
Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose ;
And every want to luxury allied.
And every pang that folly pays to pride.
Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom.
Those calm desires that aslc'd but little room,
Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful scene,
Lived in each look, and brighten'd all the green;

14

'JHK ])KSERTKD VILLAGK

These, fell' dcpaitiiig, seek ;i kinder shore,
And rural mirth and manners are no moie

Sweet Auburn ! parent of the bhssful hour,
I'hy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power.
Here, as I take my solitary rounds
Amidst thy tangling walks and ruin'd grounds.
And, many a year elapsed, return to view
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.

inK 1)i:si:r TEi) nh.lacf.

Ill all iiiv waiKlcrings rouiid this world ot care,
In all my griefs — and God has given niy share —

To husband out life's taper at the close,
And keep the flame from wasting by repose:
I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,
Amidst these humble bowers to lav me down ;
I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,
Amidst the swains to show my book-Iearn'd skill,

i6

■IHE DrSERTF-D VILLAGE.

Around my ^''t^ :i'i evcMiing group to draw,
And tell o{ all I felt, and all I saw;
And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,
Pants to the place from whence at first he flew.

:f^ ^

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,
Retieats from care, that never must be mine:
How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these,
A youth of labour with an age of ease;

THE DESERIKD \ILLAGE.

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 ;

JfPSfa

No surly porter stands, in guilty state.
To spurn imploring famine from the gate;
But on he moves to meet his latter end,
Angels around befriending virtue's friend ;
Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay,
While resignation gently slopes the way;

B

THE DESERTED VILLAGE.

And, all his prospects brightening to the last,
His hcax'cii commences ere the world be past.

Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close.
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose:
There, as I pass'd with careless steps and slow,
The mino-ling notes came soften'd from below ;
The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung,
The sober herd that low'd to meet their young;
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,
The plavful children just let loose from school;

TUF. DF.SF.RrF.n V U.f.AC.V..

19

The watch-tlog's voice that bav'd the whispering wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ;

These ail in sweet confusion sought the shade,
And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
But now the sounds of population fail;
No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale.
No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread.
But all the bloomy flush of life is fled;
All but yon widow'd solitary thing,
That feebly bends beside the plashy spring:

B 2

20

THE DESERTED VILLAGE.

She, wretched matron, forced in age, for bread,
To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,

To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn.
To seek her nightly shed and weep till morn;
She only left of all the harmless train,
The sad historian of the pensive plain.

fc^U Ul

^ q l-^^jiA

THE DESERTED VILLAGE.

21

Near yoiidcr copse, wlieic once the garden smiled,
And still where many a garden flower grows wild.

-g «=5

There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
The village preacher's modest mansion rose.
A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich with forty pounds a year;

22

THE DESERTED \Il,LAt;E.

Remote from towns he ran his godly race,

Nor e'er had ehanged, nor wish'd to change his phice

Uiiskilful he to fawji, or seek for power,
By doctrines fashion'd to the xarying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
Adore bent to raise the wretched thaji to rise.

IIIK DESl-R IF.n \ ILLAC.r.

23

His lioiisc was k.iU)wn to all the \ agrant train;
He- chill their waiulcrin<:;s, hut relieved their pain

The long remember'J beggar was his guest,
Whose heard descending swept his aged breast;
The ruin'd spendthrifr, now no longer prituJ,
Claun\l kindled lliere, and had his tlainis allow'il ;

e-«-^eC-V<V" ■^

24 'J'HE DI'SER'IED VILLAGE.

"^riic: bn)k.eii soldier, kindly bade to stay,
Sate by his tire, and talk'd the night away;
Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won.
Pleased with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow,
And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
His pity gave ere charity began.

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride.
And e'en his foilings lean'd to virtue's side ;
But in his duty prompt, at every call,
He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies.
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.

Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, bv turns dismay'd.
The reverend champion stood. At his control,
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;

'IHE DESERIED VILLAGE.

25

Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last faltering accents whisper'd praise.

At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,
And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray
The service past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal each honest rustic ran :

26

THE DESERTED VILLACE.

E'cii children [ollow'd with endearing wile,

And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile.

His ready smile a parent's warmth express'd,

Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distress'd :

To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given,

But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.

As some tall cliff, that litts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,

IHK DESERTED X'lLLADE.

27

Though round its breast the roUing clouds arc spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

^

Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way
W'ith blossoni'd furze, unproHtably gay,
There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule,
The village master tajight his little school :
A man severe he was, and stern tt) view ;
1 knew him well, and everv truant knew:

, H 5 oU-r-^L

28

THE DESERTED VILLAGE.

Well had the boding tremblers Icarn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his mornintr face:

Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;

Full well the busy whisper, circling round,
Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd ;

IHE DESERTED VILLAGE.

29

"\'ct he was kind, or if" severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in fault:
The village all declared how much he knew;
'Twas certain he could write and cipher too:
Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,
And e'en the story ran that he could gauge:

«i^fe«»^#«^^-'"' '

In arguing too the parson own'd his skill,

For e'en though vanquish'd, he could argue still;

I ' ^ ^ A-W4

30

'IHE DESERTED VILI.ACE.

Wliilc words of Icarnc-d length, and tluindcring sound,
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around;
And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew
lliat one small head could carry all he knew.
But past is all his fame: the very spot,
Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot.

-ss$f^-^

Near yonder thorn that lifts its head on high.
Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye,
Low lies thai house where nut-brown draughts inspired,
Where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retired,

THE DESERTED VILLACJE.

3'

\\ here village statesmen talkM witli looks pi"oK)iini!,
And news much older tiian their ale went round.

Imagination fondly stoops to trace
The parlour splendours of that festive place;
'l"he white-wash'd wall, the nicely-sanded flooi",
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door;

^2 'IHF. DESFRTF.D VII.T.AGR.

The chest contrived ;i double debt to pay,
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day;
The pictures placed for ornament and use.
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ;
The hearth, except when winter chill'd the day.
With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay ;
While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show.
Ranged o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row.

Vain, transitory splendours! could not all
Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall !
Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart
An hour's importance to the poor man's heart;
Thither no more the peasant shall repair
To sweet oblivion of his daily care :
No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,
No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail;
No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear.
Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear;
The host himself no longer shall be found
Careful to see the mantling bliss go round;
Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest,
Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.

THh UKbKRlKD \lLLAc;K.

S3

^ cs ! let the rich tiericle, the proud disdain,
These simple blessings of the lt)\vlv train:
I o me more dear, congenial to my heart,
One native charm, than all the gloss of art;
Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play,
The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway
Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind,
Unenvied, unmolested, unconhned.

But the long pomp, the michiight masquerade,
With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd.
In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain,
I he toilsome pleasure sickens into pain;

34

THE DESERTED VILLA(;E.

And, e'en wliilc fasliion's brightest arts decoy, ^
The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy?

Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey
The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay,
' Tis yours to judge how v/ide the limits stand
Between a splendid and a happy land.

^sr^^

!^.^

Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore.
And shouting Folly hails them from her shore;
Hoards e'en beyond the miser's v/ish abound,
And rich men flock from all the world around.
Yet count our gains. I'his wealth is but a name
That leaves our useful product still the same..

1-1 1-- / C'^(

THE DESERTED \'II,I.A(;E.

.">•)

Not so the loss. The man oi' wealth and pride 1
Takes up a space that mam' poor supplied ; i

Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds,
Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds ;
The robe that wraps his linibs in silken sloth
Has robb'd the neighbouring fields ot half" their growth;
His seat, where solitary sports are seen,
Indit^nant spurns the cottage from the green;
Around the world each needful product flies.
For all the luxuries the world supplies:
\\'hi!e thus the land, adorn'd for pleasure all,
Jn barren splendour feebly waits the fall.

As some fair female, unadorn'd and plain,
Secure to please while youth confirms her reign,
Slights every borrow'd charm that dress supplies.
Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes ;
But when those charms are past, for charms arc frail.
When time advances, and when lovers f.u'l,
She then shines forth, solicitous to bless,
In all the glaring impotence of dress;
Thus fires the land, by luxury betray'd,
in nature's simplest charms at first array'd ;

c 2

36

THE DESERTED VILLACE.

But \'crg;ing to decline, its splendours rise.
Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise j
While, scourged by famine, from the smiling land
The mournful peasant leads his humble band ;
And while he sinks, without one arm to save,
The coinitry blooms — a garden and a grave!

Where then, ah ! where shall poverty reside.
To 'scape the pressure ot coJitiguous pride?

If to some common's fenceless limits stray'd.
He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade,
I hose fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide,
And e'en the bare-worn common is denied.

IHK OKSKRIKl) VILLAGK.

37

If to the citv sped — What waits him thcie?
To see profusion, that he must not share;
1\) see ten thousand baneful arts combined
'l"o pamper luxuiv, and thin mankind;
Vo see each jov the sons ot pleasure know,
Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe.

Here, while the courtier ghtters in brocade.
There the pale artist plies the sickly trade ;
Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomp display,
There the black gibbet glooms beside the way;

38

IHE DESERTED VILLAGE.

The dome where pleasure holds her midnight reign,
Here, richly deck'd, admits the gorgeous train;
Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square,
The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare.
Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy !
Sure these denote one universal jov I
Are these thy serious thoughts? Ah, turn thine eyes
Where the poor houseless shivering female lies :
She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest.
Has wept at tales of innocence distrest;

Her modest looks the cottage might adorn.
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn ;

IHE DKShRlhO NlLl.ACJK. J9

Now lost to all; licr h'iciuis, her \irtuc Hcd,

Near her betrayer's dt)()r she lays her head,

And, pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the bhowei',

With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour

When idly first, ambitious of the town.

She left her wheel and robes of country brown.

Do thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveliest train,
l^o thv fair tribes participate her pain ?
E'en now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led,
At proud men's doors they ask a little bread !

Ah, no. To distant climes, a dreary scene,
Where half the convex world intrudes between,
Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go,
Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe.
Far different there from all that charm'd before.
The various terrors of that horrid shore;
Those blazing suns that dart a downward rav.
And fiercely shed intolerable day ;
I'hose matted wooils where birds fjrijet to sin^,
Hut silent b.its in drowsy clusters cling;

40

THK DESERTED V1LLA(;£.

Those poisonous fields with raiiic hixuiiaiice crown'd,
Where the dark scorpion gathers death around ;
Where at each step the stranger fears to wake
The ratth'ng terrors of the vengeful snake;

Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey,
And savage men more murderous still than they;
While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies,
) Mingling the ravaged landscape with the skies.
Far different these from every former scene,
The cooling brook, the grassy-vested green,

I

THE DESERTKD \1LLAGE.

41

riic Incczv covert at the warbling grove,
I "hat imlv shelter'ti thefts of hannless love.

Good Heaven ! what sorrows gloom'd that parting day,
T'hat call'd them from their native walks away!
When the poor exiles, every pleasm-e past,
flung round the bowers, and fondlv look'd their last,
And took a long farewell, and wish'd in vain
For seats like these beyond the western main ;
And shuddering still to face the distant deep,
Return'd and wept, and still return'd to weep.
The good old sire tlie Hrst prepared to go
To new-found worlils, and wejit for others' woe;

42

THK DKSERTED \'1LLAG£.

But for himself, in conscious xirtuc brave,
He onlv wish'd for worlds bcvond the grave.
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears.
The fond companion of his helpless years.

Silent went next, neglectful of her charms.

And left a lover's for her father's arms.

With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes.

And bless'd the cot where every pleasure rose;

And kiss'd her thoughtless babes with many a tear

And cJ.isp'd tliem close, in sorrow doubly dear;

IHK OKSKRIKI) \II.I.\(;E.

43

\V hilst her foiul husband strove to lend rehet,
In all the silent manliness of (jrief.

-^}r^-.

O luxury' thou curst by Heaven's decree,
How ill exchanged arc things likj these for thee!
How do thy potions, with insidious joy,
Diftuse tlK-ir pleasures only to destroy!
Kingdoms by thee, to sicklv greatness grown.
Boast of a florid vigour not their own :
At every draught more large and large thev g'ow,
A bloated mass of rank unwieldv woe;

44

THE DF.SERTED VILLAGE.

'I'ill, s;ij)p'd their strength, iiiid every part unsound,
Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.

E'en now the de\astation is betiun.
And lialf the business of destruction done;
E'en now, niethinks, as pondering here I stand, .
I see the rural \irtues leaxe the land.
Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail,
I'hat idly waiting flaps with every sale;

Downward they move, a melancholy band,

Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand

Contented toil, and hospitable care.

And kind connubial tenderness, are there;

And piety with wishes placed above.

And steady loyalty, and fluthful love.

THE DESKR'll'O \ ILL AGE.

45

And thou, sweet Pi)etry, thou loveliest maid,
Still first to fly where sensual joys invade, i-
Unfit, in tliese degenerate times of shame,
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame;
Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried.
My shame in crowds, my solitary pride;
Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe.
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so;

Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel.
Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well !
Farewell ! and oh ! where'er thy voice be tried.
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side,
Whether where equinoctial fervors glow.
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow.

46

THE DF.SERTF.D VII.LAOK.

Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of the inclement cliinc.
Aid slighted Truth with thy persuasive strain :
Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain;
Teach him, that states of native strejigth possesr.
Though very poor, may still be very blest;
That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decav.
As ocean sweeps the labour'd mole away;
While self-dependent power can time defy.
As rocks resist the billows and the sky.

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Puhlicatlo}is of the Etc/iiitg Chih.

MILTON'S L'ALLEGRO.

Illustrated with Thirty-one original Etchings on Copper, by Membern
of tlie Etching Club. 3/. 3.«. ; Proofs, in morocco, 4i. 14«. 6(/.

GRAY'S ELEGY.

Illnstratcd with Twenty-eight original Etchings on Copper, l)y Members
of the Etching Club. Folio Proofs, signed by tlie Artists, in a
portfolio, 5/. Zs. The smaller Eilition is out of j)vint.

SONGS OF SHAKSPEARE.

Illu-strated with Tweutj- -three original Etchings on Steel, by Members
of the Etching Club. In cloth boards, 21. 2f.

ETCH'D THOUGHTS.

With selected and original Letter-press, Si.xty original Etcliings <mi
Copi>er by the Etching Club. Half imperial Proofs, 10/. 10a-. each;
4 to. imperial Coi^ies, Gl. 6a-.

THE DESERTED VILLAGE.
By Oliver Goldsmith,

Illustrated by Eighty Etchings on Copper, by the Etching Club. Of this
Work there remain a few copies of the Proof Impressions only,
viz. : Half colombier Proofs before Letters, 13J. 1 ■''.<. ; Proofs with
Letters, 10/. 10s.

LnUl>i Piihlidcd,

GRAY'S ELEGY,

Written in a Country Churchyard.

Illustrateil with Twenty-four Eiigraviugs from Drawings by Birket
Foster, George Thomas, and a Lady. Crown Svc, uniform with
tliia edition of " The Deserted Village," and handsomely bound
in cdoth, with bevelled edges, iirice 7s. 6(/., or in morocco, by
Hayday, 21s.

Nearly Ready,

THEVICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
By Oliver Goldsmith.

Illustrated with numerous Engravings from Drawings by George
Thomas. Crown 8vo. uniform with this Edition of " The Deserted

Yielage."'

R. CLAY, PRINTER, LONDON.

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34-86 The deserted village

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1855

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY