ΤΟ

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

DEAR SIR,

I CAN have no expectations in an addrefs of

this kind, either to add to your reputation, or to establish my own. You can gain nothing from my admiration, as I am ignorant of that art in which you are faid to excel; and I may lofe much by the severity of your judgment, as few have a jufter tafte in poetry than you. Setting interest therefore afide, to which I never paid much attention, I must be indulged at present in following my affections. The only dedication I ever made was to my brother, because I loved him better than moft other men. He is fince dead. Permit me to infcribe this Poem

to you.

How far you may be pleased with the versification and mere mechanical parts of this attempt, I do not pretend to inquire; but I know you will object (and indeed feveral of our beft and wifeft friends concur in the opinion) that the depopulation it deplores

deplores is no where to be feen, and the disorders it laments are only to be found in the poet's own imagination. To this I can fcarcely make any other anfwer than that I fincerely believe what I have written; that I have taken all poffible pains, in my country excursions, for these four or five years past, to be certain of what I alledge, and that all my views and inquiries have led me to believe thofe miferies real which I here attempt to display. But this is not the place to enter into an inquiry, whether the country be depopulating or not; the difcuffion would take up much room, and I should prove myfelf, at beft, an indifferent politician, to tire the reader with a long preface, when I want his unfa tigued attention to a long poem.

In regretting the depopulation of the country, I inveigh against the increase of our luxuries; and here alfo I expect the fhout of modern politicians against me. For twenty or thirty years paft, it has been the fashion to confider luxury as one of the greatest national advantages; and all the wifdom of antiquity in that particular, as erroneous. Still, however, I must remain a profeffed ancient on that head, and continue to think thofe luxuries prejudicial to states by which so many vices are introduced, and fo many kingdoms have been undone. Indeed, fo much has been poured out of late on the other fide of the queftion, that, merely for the fake of novelty and

variety,

variety, one would fometimes wish to be in the right.

TO

DR. GOLDSMITH,

AUTHOR OF

THE DESERTED VILLAGE,

BY MISS AIKIN,

AFTERWARDS MRS. BARBAULD.

IN vain fair Auburn weeps her defert plains;
She moves our envy who fo well complains :
In vain hath proud oppreffion laid her low,
She wears a garland on her faded brow.
Now, Auburn, now, abfolve impartial Fate,
Which if it makes thee wretched, makes thee great.
So unobferv'd, fome humble plant may bloom,
Till crufh'd, it fills the air with fweet perfume,
So had thy fwains in eafe and plenty flept,
The poet had not fung, nor Britain wept.
Nor let Britannia mourn her drooping bay,
Unhonour'd Genius, and her swift decay:
O, patron of the poor, it cannot be,
While one-one poet yet remains like thee.
Nor can the Muse desert our favour'd Isle,
Till thou defert the Mufe, and scorn her smile.

THE

THE

DESERTED VILLAGE.

SWEET AUBURN ! lovelieft village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring swain,
Where fmiling fpring its earlieft vifit paid,
And parting fummer's ling'ring blooms delay'd.
Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth, when every fport could please,
How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green,
Where humble happiness endear'd each scene!
How often have I paus'd on every charm,
The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm,
The never-failing brook, the bufy mill,

The decent church that topt the neighb'ring hill,
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the fhade,
For talking age and whifp'ring lovers made!
How often have I bleft the coming day,
When toil remitting lent its turn to play,
And all the village train, from labour free,
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree,
While many a pastime circled in the fhade,
The young contending as the old furvey'd;

A