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CHAPTER V. 



THE HEATH. 



FAIR Morn ascends ; fresh Zephyr's breath 

 Blows liberal o'er yon bloomy heath, 

 Where, sown profusely, herb and flower, 

 Of balmy smell, of healing power, 

 Their souls in fragrant dews exhale, 

 And breathe fresh life in ev'ry gale. 

 Here spreads a green expanse of plains, 

 Where, sweetly pensive, Silence reigns ; 

 And there, at utmost stretch of eye 

 A mountain fades into the sky ; 

 While winding round, diffused and deep, 

 A river rolls with sounding sweep ; 

 Of human art no traces near, 

 I seem alone with Nature here. 

 Oh ! thou most courted, most despised, 

 And but in absence duly prized, 

 These are thy walks, oh, sacred Health ! 

 The monarch's bliss, the beggar's wealth ; 

 The seasoning of all good below, 

 The sovereign friend in joy or woe. 



MALLET. 



HERE we are on the open heath, with nothing 

 interposed between us and the clear blue sky above 

 and around us; the fresh breeze laden with 

 health sweeping by, and carrying away with it all 

 our fears lest our long walk should over-fatigue us, 

 all recollection that our ramble must terminate 

 with the setting sun. 



This is a place where it is indeed a luxury to 



