From even the proudest roll� by glory fill'd, historical record How gladly the reflecting mind returns To simple scenes of peace and industry,
170 Where, bosom'd in some valley of the hills Stands the lone farm; its gate with tawny ricks0 haystacks Surrounded, and with granaries and sheds, Roof'd with green mosses, and by elms and ash Partially shaded; and not far remov'd
175 The hut of sea-flints built; the humble home Of one, who sometimes watches on the heights,6 When hid in the cold mist of passing clouds, The flock, with dripping fleeces, are dispers'd O'er the wide down; then from some ridged point
i8o That overlooks the sea, his eager eye Watches the bark that for his signal waits To land its merchandize:�Quitting for this Clandestine traffic his more honest toil, The crook abandoning, he braves himself
185 The heaviest snow-storm of December's night, When with conflicting winds the ocean raves, And on the tossing boat, unfearing mounts To meet the partners of the perilous trade, And share their hazard. Well it were for him,
190 If no such commerce of destruction known, He were content with what the earth affords To human labour; even where she seems Reluctant most. More happy is the hind,� peasant Who, with his own hands rears on some black moor,
195 Or turbary,0 his independent hut peat bog Cover'd with heather, whence the slow white smoke Of smouldering peat arises A few sheep, His best possession, with his children share
of England. His fleet consisted of seventy-eight culty between the Dutch and French;�but three largfe ships, and twenty-two fire-ships. Lord Tor-Dutch ships were burnt, two of their admirals rington, the English admiral, lay at St. Helens, with killed, and almost all their ships disabled. The only forty English and a few Dutch ships; and con-English and Dutch declining a second engagescious of the disadvantage under which he should ment, retired towards the mouth of the Thames. give battle, he ran up between the enemy's fleet The French, from ignorance of the coast, and misand the coast, to protect it. The queen's council, understanding among each other, failed to take all dictated to by Russel, persuaded her to order Tor-the advantage they might have done of this victory rington to venture a battle. The orders Torrington [Smith's note], appears to have obeyed reluctantly: his fleet now 6. The shepherds and labourers of this tract of consisted of twenty-two Dutch and thirty-four country, a hardy and athletic race of men, are English ships. Evertson, the Dutch admiral, was almost universally engaged in the contraband eager to obtain glory; Torrington, more cautious, trade, carried on for the coarsest and most destrucreflected on the importance of the stake. The con-tive spirits, with the opposite coast. When no other sequence was, that the Dutch rashly sailing on vessel will venture to sea, these men hazard their were surrounded, and Torrington, solicitous to lives to elude the watchfulness of the Revenue offirecover this false step, placed himself with diffi-cers, and to secure their cargoes [Smith's note].
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BEACHY HEAD / 53
The rugged shed when wintry tempests blow;
200 But, when with Spring's return the green blades rise Amid the russet heath, the household live Joint tenants of the waste0 throughout the day, uncultivated land And often, from her nest, among the swamps, Where the gemm'd sun-dew grows, or fring'd buck-bean,7
205 They scare the plover,8 that with plaintive cries Flutters, as� sorely wounded, down the wind. pretending to be Rude, and but just remov'd from savage life Is the rough dweller among scenes like these, (Scenes all unlike the poet's fabling dreams
210 Describing Arcady9)�But he is free; The dread that follows on illegal acts He never feels; and his industrious mate Shares in his labour. Where the brook is traced By crowding osiers,0 and the black coot1 hides willows
215 Among the plashy reeds, her diving brood, The matron wades; gathering the long green rush2 That well prepar'd hereafter lends its light To her poor cottage, dark and cheerless else Thro' the drear hours of Winter. Otherwhile
220 She leads her infant group where charlock0 grows wild mustard "Unprofitably gay,"3 or to the fields, Where congregate the linnet and the finch, That on the thistles, so profusely spread, Feast in the desert; the poor family
225 Early resort, extirpating with care These, and the gaudier mischief of the ground; Then flames the high rais'd heap; seen afar off Like hostile war-fires flashing to the sky.4 Another task is theirs: On fields that shew
230 As� angry Heaven had rain'd sterility, as if Stony and cold, and hostile to the plough, Where clamouring loud, the evening curlew5 runs And drops her spotted eggs among the flints; The mother and the children pile the stones
235 In rugged pyramids;�and all this toil They patiently encounter; well content On their flock bed6 to slumber undisturb'd Beneath the smoky roof they call their own. Oh! little knows the sturdy hind, who stands
240 Gazing, with looks where envy and contempt Are often strangely mingled, on the car0 carriage Where prosperous Fortune sits; what secret care Or sick satiety is often hid, Beneath the splendid outside: He knows not
7. Sun-dew. Drosera rotundifolia. Buck-bean. line 194]. Menyanthes trifoliatum [Smith's note]. 4. The Beacons formerly lighted up on the hills to 8. Plover. Tringa vanelltis [Smith's note]. give notice of the approach of an enemy. These 9. Arcadia, an imagined land of peace and sim-signals would still be used in case of alarm, if the plicity. Telegraph [the signaling apparatus] now substi1. Coot. Fulica aterrima [Smith's note]. tuted could not be distinguished on account of fog 2. A reedy plant burned for light. or darkness [Smith's note]. 3. "With blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay." Gold-5. Curlew. Charadrilis oedienemus [Smith's note]. smith [Smith's note, citing The Deserted Village, 6. A bed stuffed with tufts of wool.
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54 / CHARLOTTE SMITH
245 How frequently the child of Luxury Enjoying nothing, flies from place to place In chase of pleasure that eludes his grasp; And that content is e'en less found by him, Than by the labourer, whose pick-axe smooths
250 The road before his chariot; and who doffs What was an hat; and as the train pass on, Thinks how one day's expenditure, like this, Would cheer him for long months, when to his toil The frozen earth closes her marble breast.
255 Ah! who is happy? Happiness! a word That like false fire,0 from marsh effluvia born, xvill-o'-the-wisp Misleads the wanderer, destin'd to contend In the world's wilderness, with want or woe� Yet they are happy, who have never ask'd
260 What good or evil means. The boy That on the river's margin gaily plays, Has heard that Death is there.�He knows not Death, And therefore fears it not; and venturing in He gains a bullrush, or a minnow�then,
265 At certain peril, for a worthless prize, A crow's, or raven's nest, he climbs the boll" hole, trunk Of some tall pine; and of his prowess proud, Is for a moment happy. Are your cares, Ye who despise him, never worse applied?
270 The village girl is happy, who sets forth To distant fair, gay in her Sunday suit, With cherry colour'd knots, and flourish'd shawl, And bonnet newly purchas'd. So is he Her little brother, who his mimic drum
275 Beats, till he drowns her rural lovers' oaths Of constant faith, and still increasing love; Ah! yet a while, and half those oaths believ'd, Her happiness is vanish'd; and the boy While yet a stripling, finds the sound he lov'd