Ii

But thou, perhaps, (alert as free Though serving sage philosophy) Wilt ramble over hill and dale, A Vender of the well-wrought Scale, Whose sentient tube instructs to time A purpose to a fickle clime: Whether thou choose this useful part, Or minister to finer art, Though robbed of many a cherished dream, And crossed by many a shattered scheme, What stirring wonders wilt thou see In the proud Isle of liberty! Yet will the Wanderer sometimes pine With thoughts which no delights can chase, Recal a Sister's last embrace, His Mother's neck entwine; Nor shall forget the Maiden coy That would have loved the bright-haired Boy!