Even children follow'd with endearing wile,

And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile.

The Deserted Village. Line 183.

As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,—

Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,

Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

The Deserted Village. Line 189.

Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace

The day's disasters in his morning face;