Footnotes

[433:1] This line stood originally, "A liveried servant," etc., and was altered as above by Goldsmith.—Forster: Life of Goldsmith, vol. i. p. 215 (fifth edition, 1871).

MRS. BARBAULD. 1743-1825.

Man is the nobler growth our realms supply,

And souls are ripened in our northern sky.

The Invitation.

This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,

And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.

A Summer's Evening Meditation.

It is to hope, though hope were lost.[433:2]

Come here, Fond Youth.

Life! we 've been long together

Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;

'T is hard to part when friends are dear,—

Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear;

Then steal away, give little warning,

Choose thine own time;

Say not "Good night," but in some brighter clime

Bid me "Good morning."

Life.

[[434]]

So fades a summer cloud away;

So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;

So gently shuts the eye of day;[434:1]

So dies a wave along the shore.

The Death of the Virtuous.

Child of mortality, whence comest thou? Why is thy countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping?

Hymns in Prose. xiii.