Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crown’d,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale, 20
Or press the bashful stranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good.
But me, not destin’d such delights to share,
My prime of life in wandering spent and care—
Impell’d, with steps unceasing, to pursue 25
Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view,—