But all the gentler morals, such as play

Through life’s more cultur’d walks, and charm the way—

way—

These, far dispers’d, on timorous pinions fly,

To sport and flutter in a kinder sky.

To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,

I turn; and France displays her bright domain.

Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease,

Pleas’d with thyself, whom all the world can please—

please—

How often have I led thy sportive choir,

With tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire,

Where shading elms along the margin grew,

And, freshen’d from the wave, the zephyr flew!

And haply, though my harsh touch, faltering still,

But mock’d all tune, and marr’d the dancers’ skill—

skill—

20

Yet would the village praise my wondrous power,

And dance, forgetful of the noontide hour.

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