The Deity, whose boundless pow’r
Directs the blast, or tints the flow’r—
No mortal foe molesting.
Stranger, yon spot was once the scene
Where peace and joy resided:
And oft the merry time has been
When Love and Friendship warm’d the breast,
And Freedom, making wealth a jest,
The pride of Pomp derided.
Old Jacob was the Cottage Lord,