Book IV.
Instead of ll. 3-22:
“Brother,” said George, “when I beheld you last, The time how distant!—Well! the time is past— I had not then these comforts you behold, Things that amuse us when we’re getting old. These Pictures now! experienced men will say, They’re genuine all, and so perhaps they may; They cost the money, that I’m sure is true, And therefore, Richard, I will say it too. Music you find; for hither ladies come; They make infernal uproar in the room. I bear it. Why? because I must expect To pay for honour, and I fear neglect. And if attraction from your person flies, You must some pleasure from your purse devise: But this apart—the triflers should not know That they can comfort or regret bestow.” (O.M.)
instead of ll. 76-7:
“That gun itself, that breaks upon the ear, Has something suited to the dying year.” “The dying partridge!” cried, with much disdain, Th’ offended ’Squire—“Our laws are made in vain: The country, Richard, would not be amiss, But for these plagues, and villanies like this; Wealth breeds the curse that fixes on the land, And strife and heritage go hand in hand.” (O.M.)
instead of ll. 88-130:
They walk’d along, through mead and shaded wood, And stubble ground, where late abundance stood, And in the vale, where winter waters glide, O’er pastures stretching up the mountain side. With a shrewd smile, but mix’d with look severe, The landlord view’d the promise of the year. “See! that unrivall’d flock! they, they alone Have the vast body on the slender bone; They are the village boast, the country’s theme, Fleece of such staple! flesh in such esteem!” Richard gave praise, but not in rapturous style; He chose his words, and spoke them with a smile: “Brother,” said he, “and if I take you right, I am full glad—these things are your delight; I see you proud, but,”—speaking half aside— “Is, now, the pleasure equal to the pride?” A transient flush on George’s face appear’d, Cloudy he look’d, and then his looks were cleared: “Look at yon hind!” said he,—“in very deed, His is the pride and pleasure in the breed; He has delight, he judges—I the name, And the whole praise—I speak it to my shame. Oh! Richard, Richard, tell me, if you can, What will engage and fix the mind of man?” “Suppose,” said he, “we look about the green, } In yonder cots some objects may be seen,} T’ excite our pity, or relieve our spleen,” } “Oh! they are thieves and blockheads,” George replied, “Unjust, ungrateful, and unsatisfied; To grasp at all, their study, thought, and care, All would be thieves and plunderers, if they dare; His envious nature not a clown conceals, But bluntly shows the insolence he feels.” “And whence,” said Richard, “should the vice proceed, But from their want of knowledge, and their need? Let them know more, or let them better feel, And I’ll engage they’ll neither threat nor steal.” “Brother,” said George, “your pity makes you blind To all that’s vile and odious in mankind; ’T is true your notions may appear divine, But for their justice—let us go and dine.” (O.M.)
Book V.
l. 182. woe. l. 415. controul.
Book VI.