The hunter rush'd upon the forest game;
The merchant from all climes his wares did bring;
The abbot chose the choicest vintages;
On taxes and on customs pounced the king;
And the priest claim'd the tithe of all as his.
Last of the throng, from wandering far and wide,
The poet sought the Lord with haggard air;
For, ah! he wildly gazed on every side,
And saw that nought remain'd for him to share.
"Ah, wo is me! and must I be forgot,