I, too, with him upon the Lake could be,
Sing in the Tent and dance upon the Lea;
I in the House of Harmony might raise
Th’approving Look in him who loves to praise.
But on that Sea—and now, methinks, I sip 400
The salt Sea-brine that dash’d upon my Lip
In that old Boat, so shocking to each Sense,
And all the Horror I espied from thence;
And, more than these, in that vile hovel, den
Of need and Guilt, that was so dreadful then!