And twines adown the rocky steeps,
As if impatient for the plain.
I utter a repentant strain,
And this the burden—cares enthral
And troubles crush—but spite of all
The weak are tempted to, the wicked dare,
Our lot is good, our portion fair.
FOOTNOTES:
[CV] The title in the edition of 1820 was Ode, The Pass of Kirkstone.—Ed.