THE HEATH. 113 



Flowers or a richer produce (and it suit 



The season), sprinklings of ripe strawberry fruit. 



But, while a thousand pleasures come unsought, 



Why fix upon his want, or wealth, a thought 1 



Is the string touched, in prelude to a lay 



Of pretty fancies, that would round him play, 



When all the world acknowledged elfin sway ? 



Or does it suit our humour to commend 



Poor Rohin as a sure and crafty friend, 



Whose practice teaches, spite of names, to show 



Bright colours, whether they deceive or no ? 



Nay, we would simply praise the free good will 



With which, though slighted, he on naked hill 



Or in warm valley seeks his part to fill ; 



Cheerful alike, if bare of flowers, as now, 



Or when his tiny gems shall deck his brow ; 



Yet more, we wish that men by men despised, 



And such as lift their foreheads overprized, 



Should sometimes think, whene'er they chance to spy 



This child of Nature's own humility, 



What recompense is kept in store or left 



For all that seem neglected or bereft ; 



With what nice care equivalents are given ; 



How just, how bountiful, the hand of Heaven. " 



