THE TRAVELLER; OR, A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY. | REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow,() (1) [An anecdote connected with this poem, exhibiting that absence of mind and facility of temper in its author, which occasionally led him to make admissions which he did not mean, and which were thence sometimes turned against himself, was told by Dr. Johnson. "I remember," said he, "Chamier once asked him what he meant by slow, in the first line of the Traveller. Did he mean tardiness of locomotion?' Goldsmith, who would say something without consideration, answered, 'Yes.' I was sitting by and said, 'No, Sir, you did not mean tardiness of locomotion; you mean that sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in solitude.' He, however, was a man who, whatever he wrote, did it better than any other man could do he deserved a place in Westminster Abbey, and every year he lived would have deserved it better. See Boswell, vol. vii. p. 85, ed. 1835.] : (2) Carinthia was visited by Goldsmith in 1755. Being questioned as to the justice of the censure passed upon a people whom other travellers praised for being as good, if not better than their neighbours, he gave as a reason his being once, after a fatiguing day's walk, obliged to quit a house he had entered for shelter, and pass part or the whole of the night in seeking another. See Life, ch. x.] Still to my Brother turns, with ceaseless pain, Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd, (2) Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, But me, not destin'd such delights to share, Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view; (4) Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies; (5) (1) ["The farther I travel, I feel the pain of separation with stronger force; those ties that bind me to my native country and you, are still unbroken. By every remove only drag a greater length of chain."-Citizen of the World. See vol. ii. p. 11.] (2) ["Blest be those feasts where mirth and peace abound."-First edit.] (3) [Imit." Hard was their lodging, homely was their food, (4) [“When will my wanderings be at an end? When will my restless disposition give me leave to enjoy the present hour? When at Lyons, I thought all happiness lay beyond the Alps; when in Italy, I found myself still in want of soning and expected to leave solitude behind me by going into Romelidy and now you find me turning back, still expecting ease every where but where I am."-The Bee, See vol. i. p. 18.] (5) ["Death, the only friend of the wretched, for a little while mocks the weary traveller with the view, and like his horizon still flies before him.". Vicar of Wakefield, ch. xxix.] My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, own. (1) Ev'n now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, When thus Creation's charms around combine, That good which makes each humbler bosom vain ?(4) And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind Exults in all the good of all mankind. Ye glittering towns, with wealth and splendour crown'd; Ye bending swains, that dress the flowery vale; As some lone miser, visiting his store, (1) [Imit." My destin'd miles I shall have gone, By Thames or Mease, by Po or Rhone, And found no foot of earth my own."-PRIOR.] (2) ["Lakes, forests, cities, plains extended wide."-First edit.] To spurn the splendid things by heaven supply'd."-First edit.] 16 Thus to my breast alternate passions rise, Pleas'd with each good that Heaven to man supplies : To see the hoard of human bliss so small ;(1) Some spot to real happiness consign'd, Where my worn soul, each wandering hope at rest, May gather bliss to see my fellows blest. But, where to find that happiest spot below,(2) (1) ["To see the sum of human bliss so small."-First edit.] (2) [" Yet, where to find," &c.-First edit.] (3) ["Boldly asserts that country for his own."-First edit.] (4) "And yet, perhaps, if states with states we scan, Or estimate their bliss on reason's plan, Though patriots flatter and though fools contend, Find that each good, by art or nature given, To these or those, but makes the balance even: Find that the bliss of all is much the same, And patriotic boasting reason's shame."-First edit.] Nature, a mother kind alike to all, Still grants her bliss at labour's earnest call; And though the rocky crested summits frown, (1) But let us try these truths with closer eyes, Far to the right where Apennine ascends, While oft some temple's mould'ring tops between 17 (1) [" And though rough rocks or gloomy summits frown."-First edit. | VOL. IV. C |