While the landscape round it measures,
Russet lawns, and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
Mountains on whose barren breast
The lab'ring clouds do often rest;
Meadows trim with daisies pied;
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.
L'Allegro.
Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;
With that wild wheel we go not up or down;