And laugh’d, and slept, with a most drowsy mind.
Dweller in cities, scorn’st thou the shepherd boy,
Who never look’d within to find the eye
For Nature’s glories? Know, his slumbering spirit
Struggled to pierce the fogs and deepening mists
Of rustic ignorance; but he was bound
With a harsh galling chain, and so he went
Grovelling along his dim instinctive way.
Yet thou hadst other hopes and other thoughts,
But the world spoil’d thee: then the mutable clouds,