To inhabit a mansion remote From the clatter of street-pacing steeds, And by Philomel's annual note To measure the life that she leads. With her book, and her voice, and her lyre, She will have just the life she prefers, And ours would be pleasant as hers, Might we view her enjoying it here. THE MORALIZER CORRECTED. A TALE. A HERMIT, (or if 'chance you hold That title now too trite and old) And, staff in hand, set forth to share Distant a little mile he spied A western bank's still sunny side, And right toward the favour'd place 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, Imagination to his view Presents it deck'd with ev'ry hue, Ere long approach life's ev'ning shades, True, answer'd an angelic guide, Attendant at the senior's side But whether all the time it cost, To urge the fruitless chase be lost, 302 THE MORALIZER CORRECTED. Must be decided by the worth Of that, which call'd his ardour forth. Is paid, at least in peace of mind, A brighter prize than that he meant THE FAITHFUL BIRD. THE greenhouse 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, Strangers to liberty, 'tis true, But that delight they never knew, But nature works in ev'ry breast, |