Oliver Goldsmith

Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.

Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance read more

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom, is--to die.

Honour sinks where commerce long prevails.

Honour sinks where commerce long prevails.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he read more

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad
When he put on his clothes.

Good people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madame Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word--
read more

Good people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madame Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word--
From those who spoke her praise.