THE FOLLOWING

LETTER,

ADDRESSED TO THE

PRINTER OF THE ST. JAMES'S CHRONICLE,

APPEARED IN THAT PAPER IN JUNE M,DCC, LXVII,

SIR,

As there is nothing I dislike so much as newspaper controversy, particularly upon trifles, permit me to be as concise as possible in informing a correspondent of yours, that I recommended Blainville's Travels, because I thought the book was a good one; and I think so still. I said, I was told by the bookseller that it was then first published; but in that, it seems, I was misinformed, and my reading was not extensive enough to set me right.

Another correspondent of yours accuses me of having taken a ballad I published some time ago, from one by the ingenious Mr. Percy. I do not think there is any great resemblance between the

* The Friar of Orders Gray. "Reliq. of Anc. Poetry," vol. I. Book 2. No. 18.

two pieces in question. If there be any, his ballad is taken from mine. I read it to Mr. Percy some years ago; and he (as we both considered these things as trifles at best) told me with his usual good humour, the next time I saw him, that he had taken my plan to form the fragments of Shakspeare into a ballad of his own. He then read me his little Cento, if I may so call it, and I highly approved it. Such petty anecdotes as these are scarcely worth printing: and, were it not for the busy disposition of some of your correspondents, the public should never have known that he owes me the hint of his ballad, or that I am obliged to his friendship and learning for communications of a much more important nature.

I am, Sir,

Yours, &c.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

Note. On the subject of the preceding letter, the reader is desired to consult "The Life of Dr. Goldsmith," under the year 1765.

THE

HERMIT.

A BALLAD.

I.

"TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, "And guide my lonely way, "To where yon taper cheers the vale With hospitable ray.

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II.

"For here forlorn and lost I tread, "With fainting steps and slow; "Where wilds, immeasurably spread, "Seem length'ning as I go."

III.

"Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, "To tempt the dangerous gloom; "For yonder faithless phantom flies "To lure thee to thy doom.

IV.

"Here to the houseless child of want

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My door is open still;

"And though my portion is but scant,

"I give it with good will.

V.

"Then turn to-night, and freely share

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To slaughter I condemn;

Taught by that Power that pities me, "I learn to pity them:

VII.

"But from the mountain's grassy side

"A guiltless feast I bring

"A scrip with herbs and fruits supply'd, "And water from the spring.

VIII.

"Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;

"All earth-born cares are wrong;

"Man wants but little here below,

"Nor wants that little long."