APPEARED IN THAT PAPER, IN JUNE, A SIR, S there is nothing I dislike so much as newspaper controversy, particularly upon trifles, permit me to be as concise as possible in informing a correspondent of yours, that I recommended Blainville's Travels, because I thought the book was a good one; and I think so still. I faid, I was told by the bookfeller that it was then first published; but in that, it seems, I was mif-informed, and my reading was not extensive enough to fet me right. Another correspondent of yours accuses me of having taken a ballad, I published some time ago, VOL. I. C from from one * by the ingenious Mr. Percy. I do not think there is any great resemblance between the two pieces in question. If there be any, his ballad is taken from mine. I read it to Mr. Percy, fome years ago; and he (as we both confidered these things as trifles at best) told me with his usual good humour, the next time I saw him, that he had taken my plan to form the fragments of Shakespeare into a ballad of his own. He then read me his little Cento, if I may so call it, and I highly approved it. Such petty anecdotes as these are scarce worth printing: and, were it not for the busy difpofition of some of your correspondents, the public should never have known that he owes me the hint of his ballad, or that I am obliged to his friendship and learning for communications of a much more impor tant nature. I am, Sir, Yours, &c. OLIVER GOLDSMITH. * The Friar of Orders Gray. "Reliq. of Anc. Poetry," vol. 1. p. 243. THE "TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, " And guide my lonely way, "To where yon taper chears the vale "With hospitable ray. " For here forlorn and loft I tread, "F Forbear, my fon," the Hermit cries, "Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still; "And though my portion is but scant, " I give it with good will. "Then turn to-night, and freely share " Whate'er my cell bestows; "My rushy couch and frugal fare, "No flocks that range the valley free, "To flaughter I condemn: Taught by that power that pities me, " I learn to pity them : "But from the mountain's grassy side " Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego; Soft as the dew from heaven descends, The modest stranger lowly bends, And follows to the cell. Far Far in a wilderness obscure The lonely mansion lay; No stores beneath its humble thatch The wicket op'ning with a latch, And now, when busy crowds retire And spread his vegetable store, And gayly prest, and smil'd; And, skill'd in legendary lore, The lingering hours beguil'd. Around in sympathetic mirth Its tricks the kitten tries; But nothing could a charm impart And tears began to flow. |