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Haply some hoary-headed Swain may say,
«Oft have we seen him at the
· Brushing with hasty steps the dews away
• To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
• There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
• His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
. And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
• 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,
the lawn, nor at the wood was he ;
The next with dirges due in fad array
*Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him born.
Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay,
• Gray'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere,
Heav'n did a recompence as largely send :
- He gave to Mis’ry all be had, a tear,
He gain'd from Heav’n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(* There they alike in trembling hope repose,)
The bofom of his Father and his God.
Petrarch. Son. 114.
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