Shall rear her form to stately height,

Her virgin bosom swell.

Three Years She Grew in Sun and Shower.

How blest the Maid whose heart—yet free

From Love's uneasy sovereignty—

Beats with a fancy running high,

Her simple cares to magnify;

Whom Labour, never urged to toil,

Hath cherished on a healthful soil;

Who knows not pomp, who heeds not pelf;