Poem by Oliver Goldsmith

The Traveller

REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow,
Or by the lazy Scheld or wandering Po;
Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor
Against the houseless stranger shuts the door;
Or where Campania’s plain forsaken lies,
A weary waste expanding to the skies;
Where’er I roam, whatever realms I see,
My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee,
Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.

1. Italy
2. Answer to an Invitation to Pass the Christmas at Barton
3. From the Latin of Vida
4. A Sonnet
5. The Logicians Refuted

Arthur West The Traveller ("Oh, I came singing down the road")

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