Clad like a rusticated elf,

  (Perhaps incog. 'twas Jove himself)

  He travers'd hills, and glens, and woods,

  And verdant lawns, by crystal floods;

  For sure, said he, if Earth has joys,

  They dwell remote from pomp and noise.

    He loitering pass'd the vacant hour,

  For Strawberries stoop'd, or pluck'd a Flower,

  And snuff'd the Zephyrs as they play'd,

  In wanton curves beneath the shade.

    'Till having every sweet pursued,

  That leisure finds in solitude,

  Resolving now to seek Mankind,

  And new delights in converse find,

  He left the woods, he cross'd the plain,

  And join'd the Reapers' jolly train;

  With Men and Maids he talk'd and toil'd,

  While jocund mirth the hours beguil'd;

  For Maids the cheerful labour shar'd,

  And blooming health their rich reward.

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