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THE UNGENEROUS.LERWICK, 1813.
I read the language of thine eyes, And feel my bosom proudly swell—I can thy narrow mind despise, And all thy little thoughts can tell.
No hoarded stores of gold I boast, Nor lands, nor tenements, are mine;Yet, not for all on India's coast, Would I possess a soul like thine!
Then go,—enjoy thy valued wealth, And still thy fav'ring smiles refuse:Kind Heav'n will grant me peace and health, And leave me virtue and the Muse.
SUMMER. 1813.
Yes, thou hast come again, with joy and love, All smiling Summer!—beauteous are thy scenes,Though here, nor darksome wood, nor fragrant grove From the hot sun the pensive wand'rer screens.
