Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall,
To see the hoard of human bliss so small;
And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find
Some spot to real happiness consign'd,

Where my worn soul, each wandering hope at rest,

May gather bliss to see my fellows bless'd.

But where to find that happiest spot below, Who can direct, when all pretend to know?

The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone

Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own,
Extols the treasures of his stormy seas,
And his long nights of revelry and ease;
The naked negro, panting at the line,

Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine,
Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave,
And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.
Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam,
His first, best country ever is at home;
And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,
And estimate the blessings which they share,
Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find
An equal portion dealt to all mankind-

As different good, by art or nature given

To different nations, makes their blessings even.

Nature, a mother kind alike to all,

Still grants her bliss at labour's earnest call
With food as well the peasant is supplied
On Idra's cliffs as Arno's shelvy side;

And, though the rocky-crested summits frown,
These rocks, by custom, turn to beds of down.
From art, more various are the blessings sent-
Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, content;
Yet these each other's power so strong contest
That either seems destructive of the rest:
Where wealth and freedom reign contentment fails,
And honour sinks where commerce long prevails.
Hence every state, to one lov'd blessing prone,
Conforms and models life to that alone;
Each to the favourite happiness attends,
And spurns the plan that aims at other ends-
'Till, carried to excess in each domain,
This favourite good begets peculiar pain.

But let us try these truths with closer eyes,
And trace them through the prospect as it lies:
Here, for a while my proper cares resign'd,
Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind;

Like yon neglected shrub, at random cast,
That shades the steep and sighs at every blast.

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100

Its uplands sloping deck the mountain's side,
Woods over woods in gay theatric pride,
While oft some temple's mouldering tops between
With venerable grandeur mark the scene.

Could Nature's bounty satisfy the breast,

The sons of Italy were surely bless'd.

Whatever fruits in different climes were found,
That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground-
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear,

Whose bright succession decks the varied year-
Whatever sweets salute the northern sky
With vernal lives, that blossom but to die-
These, here disporting, own the kindred soil,
Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil;
While sea-born gales their gelid wings expand
To winnow fragrance round the smiling land.
But small the bliss that sense alone bestows,
And sensual bliss is all the nation knows;
In florid beauty groves and fields appear—
Man seems the only growth that dwindles here!
Contrasted faults through all his manners reign:
Though poor, luxurious; though submissive, vain ;
Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue—
And even in penance planning sins anew.

All evils here contaminate the mind,

That opulence departed leaves behind;

For wealth was theirs-nor far remov'd the date

When commerce proudly flourish'd through the state.

At her command the palace learn'd to rise,

Again the long-fallen columns sought the skies,