IV. Fret not yourselves, ye silken sons of pride, That a poor Wanderer should inspire my strain. Nor ever bow the knee in Mammon's fane; For their delights are with the village-train, Whom Nature's laws engage, and Nature's charms: They hate the sensual, and scorn the vain ; The parasite their influence never warms, Nor him whose sordid soul the love of wealth alarms. V. Though richest hues the peacock's plumes adorn, Yet horror screams from his discordant throat. Rise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn, O let them ne'er, with artificial note, To please a tyrant, strain the little bill! But sing what heaven inspires, and wander where they VI. Liberal, not lavish, is kind Nature's hand; Yet all her schemes with nicest art are planned, With gold and gems if Chilian mountains glow, There, plague and poison, lust and rapine grow; VII. Then grieve not, thou, to whom the indulgent Muse Nor blame the partial fates, if they refuse Ambition's grovelling crew for ever left behind. VIII. Canst thou forego the pure ethereal soul In each fine sense so exquisitely keen, On the dull couch of Luxury to loll, IX. O, how canst thou renounce the boundless store And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven, O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven! X. These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health, And love, and gentleness, and joy, impart. But these thou must renounce, if lust of wealth E'er win its way to thy corrupted heart; For ah! it poisons like a scorpion's dart; Prompting the ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme, The stern resolve, unmoved by pity's smart, The troublous day, and long distressful dream. Return, my roving Muse! resume thy purposed theme. XI. There lived, in Gothic days, as legends tell, A shepherd-swain, a man of low degree; Whose sires, perchance, in Fairyland might dwel Sicilian groves, or vales of Arcady; But he, I ween, was of the North Countrie: A nation famed for song, and beauty's charms; Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though free; Patient of toil; serene amidst alarms ; Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms. XII. The shepherd-swain, of whom I mention made, The sickle, scythe, or plough, he never swayed; And he, though oft with dust and sweat besprent, Did guide and guard their wanderings, wheresoe'er they went. XIII. From labour health, from health contentment springs. Contentment opes the source of every joy. And her alone he loved, and loved her from a child. |