My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
And find no spot of all the world my own.

Hail! ye drear shadows, willing I approach
Once more to join you, from my humble couch;
Welcome, ye friendly shades, ye kindred glooms!
More do I love you than the wealthy's rooms—
The dark, damp walls—the roof scarce cover'd o'er,
The wind wild whistling through the cold barn-door.
Those, like myself, are hung in ragged state,
And this seems shrilly to deplore my fate.

  Far from a home, Fate has my lot design'd,
A lot inglorious, and a lot unkind;
No friend at hand to bless my listening ear,
No kind companion to dispel my care,
No coin to revel round the flowing bowl,
And in dark shades to wrap the weltering soul :
If that is bliss, 'twas what I never miss'd,
And were it all, I'd rather be unbless'd.

  But, come! thou cheerer of my frowning hours,
Native of heaven, adorn'd with blooming flowers;
Thou, who oft deigns the shepherd's breast to warm,
As on the steep he feeds his fleecy swarm;
Sublimes his soul, through Nature vast to soar,
Her works to view, to wonder and adore.
Though Fortune frown, and writhing
Envy hiss, Be thou, oh Poetry! my pride, my bliss;
My source of health—Misfortune's adverse spear,
My joy hereafter, and my pleasure here.

  While yet sad Night sits empress of the sky,
And o'er the world dark shades confusedly lie,
Forth let me stray along the dew-wet plains,
While all air echoes with the lark's loud strains.
With lonely step I'll seek the gloomy shade
Of yon wide oak, half bending o'er the glade;
Here let me rest, unseen by human eye,
And sing the beauties of the dawning sky.

  How still is all around! far on yon height
The new-waked hind has struck a glimmering light;
Hush'd is the breeze, while high the clouds among
The early lark pours out her thrilling song,
Springs from the grassy lea or rustling corn,
Towers thro' dull night and wakes the coming morn.
And see! sweet Morning comes, far in the east,
Pale lustre shedding o'er the mountain's breast;
Slow is her progress, unobserved her pace,
She comes increasing, and she comes with grace;
The dewy landscape opens on the eye,
Far to the west the gloomy vapours fly;
Instant awake! the feather'd tribes arise,
Sport through the grove or warble in the skies,
Blithe and exulting with refreshen'd glee,
From every bush and every dropping tree.