England

Oliver Goldsmith (1730–1774)

From “The Traveller”

FIRED at the sound, my genius spreads her wing,

And flies where Britain courts the western spring;

Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride,

And brighter streams than famed Hydaspes glide.

There all around the gentlest breezes stray,

There gentler music melts on every spray;

Creation’s mildest charms are there combined,

Extremes are only in the master’s mind.

Stern o’er each bosom reason holds her state,

With daring aims irregularly great,

Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,

I see the lords of human kind pass by:

Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band,

By forms unfashioned, fresh from nature’s hand,

Fierce in their native hardiness of soul,

True to imagined right above control,—

While e’en the peasant boasts these rights to scan,

And learns to venerate himself as man.

Thine, freedom, thine the blessing pictured here,

Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear!