Lament not thou thy board of frugal fare, 245
But with full heart ask heaven’s blessing there!
Thy prayer as free will come, as pure will rise,
As if through column’d roofs it sought the skies.
It is not marble—sculpture—painting—gold—
Can deck the page of life by time unrolled! 250
And grandeur moulders—levelled with the mean,
To warn us of the reed on which we lean.
Alas! her breast who owned this wide domain
Sighed for the calm of cottage homes in vain!