Though Goldsmith's pencil o'er the rural scene Threw softer radiance, and a fresher green; Display'd the poor, from guilt and sorrow free, A pastoral group in pleasant Arcady! Yet sterner Crabbe, with truth's unwelcome light, Dragg'd want, and labour, and distress to sight: Shudd'ring we read conviction's mournful strain, "And own the village life a life of pain."
