Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;

To husband out life's taper at the close,

And keep the flame from wasting by repose;

I still had hopes—for pride attends us still—

Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill,

Around my fire an evening group to draw,

And tell of all I felt and all I saw;

And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue.

Pants to the place from whence at first she flew—

I still had hopes—my long vexations past,