Still have my pilgrim feet unfailing found, 720
  As despot courts their blaze of gems display,
  Ev’n by the secret cottage far away
  The lilly of domestic joy decay;
  While Freedom’s farthest hamlets blessings share,
  Found still beneath her smile, and only there. 725
  The casement shade more luscious woodbine binds,
  And to the door a neater pathway winds,
  At early morn the careful housewife, led
  To cull her dinner from it’s garden bed,
  Of weedless herbs a healthier prospect sees, 730
  While hum with busier joy her happy bees;
  In brighter rows her table wealth aspires,
  And laugh with merrier blaze her evening fires;
  Her infant’s cheeks with fresher roses glow,
  And wilder graces sport around their brow; 735
  By clearer taper lit a cleanlier board
  Receives at supper hour her tempting hoard;
  The chamber hearth with fresher boughs is spread,
  And whiter is the hospitable bed.

 —­And thou! fair favoured region! which my soul 740
  Shall love, till Life has broke her golden bowl,
  Till Death’s cold touch her cistern-wheel assail,
  And vain regret and vain desire shall fail;
  Tho’ now, where erst the grey-clad peasant stray’d,
  To break the quiet of the village shade 745
  Gleam war’s [Hh] discordant habits thro’ the trees,
  And the red banner mock the sullen breeze;
  Tho’ now no more thy maids their voices suit
  To the low-warbled breath of twilight lute,
  And heard, the pausing village hum between, 750
  No solemn songstress lull the fading green,
  Scared by the fife, and rumbling drum’s alarms,
  And the short thunder, and the flash of arms;
  While, as Night bids the startling uproar die,
  Sole sound, the [Ii] sourd renews his mournful cry:  755
 —­Yet, hast thou found that Freedom spreads her pow’r
  Beyond the cottage hearth, the cottage door: 
  All nature smiles; and owns beneath her eyes
  Her fields peculiar, and peculiar skies. 
  Yes, as I roam’d where Loiret’s [Jj] waters glide 760
  Thro’ rustling aspins heard from side to side,
  When from October clouds a milder light
  Fell, where the blue flood rippled into white,
  Methought from every cot the watchful bird
  Crowed with ear-piercing power ’till then unheard; 765
  Each clacking mill, that broke the murmuring streams,
  Rock’d the charm’d thought in more delightful dreams;
  Chasing those long long dreams the falling leaf
  Awoke a fainter pang of moral grief;
  The measured echo of the distant flail 770
  Winded in sweeter cadence down the vale;
  A more majestic tide the [Kk] water roll’d,
  And glowed the sun-gilt groves in richer gold: