Sought at a bound the largest liberty.
Self-exiled then, to meadow stream and wood,
We dropped half-read the tale of Robin Hood;
Though guiltless of his suits of Lincoln green,
Dear, as to him, was every sylvan scene.
Shade of old Crusoe, with thy dog and gun,
And thy lone isle beneath a southern sun!
Shades of the lords that made such rare disport
Beneath the oaks of Arden’s rural court!
As o’er my little day I cast my view,