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And with scenes that new rapture inspire
As oft as it suits her to roam,
She will have just the life she prefers,
With little to wish or to fear, And ours will be pleasant as hers,
Might we view her enjoying it here.
A TA LE.
A hermit (or if 'chance you
hold That title now too trite and old) A man, once young, who lived retired As hermit could have well desired, His hours of study closed at last, And finish'd his concise repast, Stoppled his cruse, replaced his book Within its customary nook,
And, staff in hand, set forth to share
The sober cordial of sweet air,
Like Isaac, with a mind applied
Just reach'd it when the sun was set.
Your hermit, young and jovial sirs! Learns something from whate'er occursAnd hence, he said, my mind computes The real worth of man's pursuits. His object chosen, wealth or fame, Or other sublunary game,
Imagination to his view
That can seduce him not to spare
His pow'rs of best exertion there,
On so desirable an end.
Ere long, approach life's evening shades,
True, answer'd an angelic guide,
But whether all the time it cost
the fruitless chase be lost,
Must be decided by the worth
Of that which call'd his ardour forth.
Trifles pursu'd, whate'er th' event,
A vicious object still is worse,
But he, whom e'en in life's last stage
Endeavours laudable engage,
Is paid, at least in peace of mind,
The green-house is my summer seat; My shrubs displac'd from that retreat
Enjoy'd the open air;
Two goldfinches, whose sprightly song Had been their mutual solace long,
Liv'd happy pris’ners there.
They sang, as blithe as finches sing
And frolic where they list;
And, therefore, never miss'd.
But nature works in ev'ry breast;
And Dick felt some desires,
between his wires.
windows seem'd to invite
The freeman to a farewell flight;