The lake whose breast reflects the hills above;
The lowing herds that through green pastures stray,
Where limpid streams pursue their pebbled way.
After showing that imagination is most powerful in youth, and the different manner in which it operates upon men, leading some to public life, and some to retirement; after drawing a picture of domestic felicity, and dwelling upon the question whether the happiness derived from the indulgence of an ardent fancy is not ill exchanged for a reasonable view of human life,—the poet speaks of the moral influence of a fine imagination; and here occur these lines—
Shall the pale Autumn shed his leaves in vain,
Sear the green woods, and all their glories stain?
Shall Winter clouds and bitter frosts impart,
Yet force no saddening moral on the heart?
Oh! let the warning past one thought employ!
Have not our projects, marked by grief or joy,