One only master grasps the whole domain, The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; Ill fares the land, to hast'ning ills a prey, A time there was, ere England's griefs began, When ev'ry rood of ground maintain'd its man; For him light labour spread her wholesome store, Just gave what life requir'd, but gave no more: His best companions, innocence and health; But times are alter'd; trade's unfeeling train And ev'ry pang that folly pays to pride. Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, Sweet AUBURN! parent of the blissful hour, Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's pow'r. Here, as I take my solitary rounds, Amidst thy tangling walks, and ruin'd grounds, And, many a year elaps'd, return to view Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. In all my wand'rings round this world of care, And as an hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, O blest retirement, friend to life's decline, Retreats from care, that never must be mine, |