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Shall be despised and overlooked no more,
Shall fill thee with delights unfelt before,
Impart to things inanimate a voice,

And bid her mountains and her hills rejoice;
The sound shall run along the winding vales,
And thou enjoy an Eden ere it fails.

Ye groves (the statesman at his desk exclaims, Sick of a thousand disappointed aims,)

My patrimonial reasure and my pride,
Beneath your shades your gray possessor hide,
Receive me languishing for that repose,
The servant of the public never knows.
Ye saw me once (al those regretted days,
When boyish innocence was all my praise!)
Hour after hour delghtfully allot
To studies then familiar, since forgot,
And cultivate a tase for ancient song,
Catching its ardour as I mused along;

Nor seldom, as propitious heaven might send,
What once I value and could boast, a friend,
Were witnesses how cordially I pressed
His undissemblingvirtue to my breast;
Receive me now, lot uncorrupt as then,

Nor guiltless of corupting other men,

But versed in arts that, while they seem to stay A falling empire,hasten its decay.

To the fair haven of my native home,
The wreck of what I was fatigued I come ;
For once I can approve the patriot's voice,
And make the course he recommends my choice:
We meet at last in one sincere desire,

His wish and mine both prompt me to retire.
'Tis done-he steps into the welcome chaise,
Lolls at his ease behind four handsone bays,
That whirl away from business and debate
The disincumbered Atlas of the state.

Ask not the boy, who when the breeze of morn
First shakes the glittering drops fron every thorn,
Unfolds his flock, and under bank or bush

Sits linking cherry stones, or plattng rush,
How fair is freedom?-he was always free:
To carve his rustic name upon a tre,

To snare the mole, or with ill-fashoned hook
To draw the incautious minnow from the brook,
Are life's prime pleasures in his simple view,
His flock the chief concern he ever knew;
She shines but little in his heedless yes,
The good we never miss we rarely prize :
But ask the noble drudge in state affirs,
Escaped from office and its constantcares,
What charms he sees in freedom's snile expressed;
In freedom lost so long, now repossesed;

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The tongue, whose strains were cogent as commands,
Revered at home, and felt in foreign lands,

Shall own itself a stammerer in that cause,
Or plead its silence as its best applause.
He knows indeed that whether dressed or rude,
Wild without art, or artfully subdued,
Nature in every form inspires delight,
But never marked her with so just a sight.
Her hedge-row shrubs, a variegated store,
With woodbine and wild roses mantled o'er,
Green balks and furrowed lands, the stream, that
spreads

Its cooling vapour over the dewy meads,

Downs, that almost escape the enquiring eye,
That melt and fade into the distant sky,
Beauties he lately slighted as he passed,
Seem all created since he travelled last.
Master of all the enjoyments he designed,
No rough annoyance rankling in his mind,
What early philosophic hours he keeps,
How regular his meals, how sound he sleeps!
Not sounder he, that on the mainmast head,
While morning kindles with a windy red,
Begins a long look-out for distant land,
Nor quits till evening watch his giddy stand,
Then swift descending with a seaman's haste,
Slips to his hammoc, and forgets the blast.

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