Poems on Several Occasions, Elegy

In nothing was I learn'd, but only how To pen my flocks, and drive them to the field, In the strait furrow how to guide my plough, And how my hoe and pruning-hook to wield.

Uncultivated was my mind, and mean, My abject thoughts low fasten'd to the earth, Till Love, with hand benign, broke Custom's chain, And bade me soar beyond my humble birth.

With beauty fir'd, I look'd around, and saw The charms of Nature never seen before; O Love, a willing vassal to thy law I bend, I feel thy blessings, and adore.

Prompted by thee, as yet with trembling tongue I call'd the Muses, and desir'd their aid, My wood-notes in the hazel copse I sung, And caught th' attention of the listening maid.

She listen'd to my strains, she heard my tale, While deepening blushes o'er her cheeks arise, The soft consenting sigh my lips inhale, I see the yielding languor of her eyes.

No; true to Love, if ever I estrange For any other Fair, my thoughts from thee— Why utter needless vows? I cannot change, It is impossible, nor e'er will be.

O Love, I own thy sway, by thee my mind The face of low-liv'd Avarice disdains, The common vice of Passion unrefin'd, The common vice among our country Swains.

Hence cares, and troubles: hence do they behold The state of riches with an envious eye, They think not aught beyond the power of gold, Nor know how Love can lift the soul on high.

O come, my Fair-one; I have thatch'd above, And whiten'd all around my little cot, I've shorn the hedges leading to the grove, Nor is the seat, and willow bower forgot.

Low is the path of life in which I move, Thou might'st perhaps have reach'd the higher sphere Of Wealth and noisy Pride; but faithful Love, And Innocence, and sweet Content, are here.