Never sway'd o'er a trembling Child.

                   10

  Not anxiously careful for pelf,

    Melancholic and thoughtful, his mind

  Look'd inward and dwelt on itself,

    Still pensive, pathetic, and kind;

  Yet oft in despondency drown'd,

    He from friends, and from converse would fly.

  In weeping a luxury found,

    And reliev'd others' woes with a sigh.

                   11

  In solitude long would he stay,

    And long lock'd in silence his tongue;

  Then he humm'd an elegiac lay,

    Or a Psalm penitential he sung:

  But if with his Friends he regal'd,

    His Mirth, as his Griefs, knew no bounds;

  In no Tale of Mark Sargent he sail'd,

    Nor in all Robin Hood's Derry-downs.

                   12

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