with a smart sword at his side, his gold-headed cane in his
hand, and his hat under his elbow." But while he had more than his
share of weaknesses, it must be granted that "e'en his failings leaned
to Virtue's side." He was sensitive, open-hearted, generous, and
kindly--always ready to help those less fortunate than himself. If in
Parson Primrose and in the "village preacher" of _The Deserted Village_
he has painted portraits of his father, the country curate, there is
something of himself as well in these lovable characters. Both in
poetry and in prose his style is easy and delightful; his humor has no
sting. Everything that comes from his pen has the flavor of his quaint
personality. In spite of his failings--or possibly in part because of
them--this son of Ireland is one of the most popular of English writers.

THE TRAVELLER;

OR, A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY

Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow,
Or by the lazy Scheld[1] or wandering Po;
Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor[2]
Against the houseless stranger shuts the door;
Or where Campania's plain[3] forsaken lies, 5
A weary waste expanding to the skies;
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee;
Still to my brother[4] turns, with ceaseless pain,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. 10

Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend,
And round his dwelling guardian saints attend:
Blest be that spot where cheerful guests retire
To pause from toil, and trim their ev'ning fire:
Blest that abode where want and pain repair, 15
And every stranger finds a ready chair:
Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale; 20
Or press the bashful stranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good.

But me, not destined such delights to share,
My prime of life in wand'ring spent and care;
Impelled, with steps unceasing, to pursue 25
Some fleeting good that mocks me with the view;
That, like the circle bounding earth and skies,
Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies;
My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
And find no spot of all the world my own. 30

Even now, where Alpine solitudes ascend,
I sit me down a pensive hour to spend;
And pla