Sweet child of sickly Fancy—Her of yore
From her lov’d France Rousseau to exile bore;
And while midst lakes and mountains wild he ran
Full of himself and shunn’d the haunts of man,
Taught her o’er each lone vale and Alpine steep
To lisp the stories of his wrongs and weep;
Taught her to cherish still in either eye
Of tender tears a plentiful supply,
And pour them in the brooks that babbled by—
Taught her to mete by rule her feelings strong,