But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,

Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.

17

Cheerful at morn, he wakes from short repose,

Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes;

With patient angle trolls the finny deep;

Or drives his venturous ploughshare to the steep;

Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way,

And drags the struggling savage into day.

At night returning, every labour sped,

He sits him down the monarch of a shed;

Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys

His children’s looks, that brighten at the blaze—

blaze—

While his lov’d partner, boastful of her hoard,

Displays her cleanly platter on the board:

And haply too some pilgrim, thither led,

With many a tale repays the nightly bed.

Thus every good his native wilds impart

Imprints the patriot passion on his heart;

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