His own free land, left by his friends to him!—
And leading all his life at home in peace,
Always in sight of his own smoke; no seas,
No other seas he knows, nor other torrent,
Than that which waters with his silver current
His native meadows: and that very earth
Shall give him burial, which first gave him birth.
To summon timely sleep, he doth not need
Æthiops cold rush, nor drowsy poppy seed,
The stream's mild murmur, as it gently gushes,