Nor envied lordly pomp, with courtly train,
Of empty rank and fruitful acres vain.
Methinks I see a summer evening pass,
When thou wert peopled, and in sinless glee
Methinks the lusty ploughman and his lass
Dance with unmeasured mirth, enraptured, free,
While seated from the joyous throng apart,
The blind musician labors at his art.
Though fancy, wayward as the vagrant wind,
May picture scenes of unambitious taste,