OF OLIVEB GOLDSMITH. 



25 



descriptions would appear inadequate by the omission of a 

 single line. 



Take, for example, the lines which bring before us the 

 evening scene in the village, endeared to the memory of the 

 poet, before the change he deplores had passed upon it, and we 

 shall perceive the beauty and adaptation of his language : — 



" Sweet was the sound when oft at evening's close, 

 Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ; 

 There as I passed with careless steps, and slow, 

 The mingled notes came softened from below ; — 

 The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung, 

 The sober herd that lowed to meet their young ; 

 The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool. 

 The playful children just let loose from school ; 

 The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind, 

 , And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; — 



These all, in sweet confusion, sought the shade. 

 And filled each pause the nightingale had made." 



These lines are pleasing, because they are natural. The 

 every-day occurrences of rural life, incidents trivial in them- 

 selves, yet placed together, delight on account of their being 

 the description of what every one can realise; — evening 

 passing away, — the sun going down, and universal nature 

 preparing for repose, — the poet's irregular walk, full per- 

 chance of pleasure in listening to the sounds he describes, — 

 the mingling notes falling upon his ear without an effort, and 

 the transition which follows on pointing out a variety of 

 sounds softened by distance, and then the idea connected with 

 each cause of sound, some one or other of the objects which 

 formerly rendered Auburn the loveliest village in the plain. 



" The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung." 



Here is, in one line, pointed out one of the hardy villagers — 

 strong, active, handsome, and laborious — relaxing from the 



