Oliver Goldsmith

So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.

So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.

How small of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!
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How small of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!
Still to ourselves in every place consigned,
Our own felicity we make or find.
With secret course, which no loud storms annoy,
Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.

Blame where you must, be candid where you can,
And be each critic the Good-natured Man.

Blame where you must, be candid where you can,
And be each critic the Good-natured Man.

What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head,
Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed;
Where read more

What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head,
Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed;
Where the rug's two-fold use we might display,
By night a blanket, and a plaid by day.

Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth;
If he had any faults, he has left us in read more

Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth;
If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt.