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Haply some hoary-headed Swain may say,
« Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
• Brushing with hafty steps the dews away
• To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
• There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
• That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
• His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
• Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
• Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove,
« Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath and near his fav'rite tree;
Another came ; nor yet beside the rill,
« Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;
• The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him born,
• Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay,
· Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Τ Η Ε Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η.
Large was his bounty, and his soul fincere,
Heav'n did a recompence as largely send :
He gave to Mis’ry all he had, a tear,
He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he will’d) a friend,
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draru bis frailties from their dread abode,
(* There they alike in trembling hope repose,
The bofom of his Father and his God.
Petrarcb. Son. 114.