A PASTORAL 137 



For me, why should I wish to roam 

 This spot is my paternal home, 



It is my pleasant heritage : 

 My father many a happy year 

 Spread here his careless blossoms, here 

 TO Attained a good old age. 



Even such as his may be my lot. 



What cause have I to haunt 

 My heart with terrors? Am I not 



In truth a favoured plant! 

 On me such bounty Summer pours 

 That I am covered o'er with flowers ; 



And, when the frost is in the sky, 

 My branches are so fresh and gay 

 That you might look at me and say 

 so " This Plant can never die ". 



The butterfly, all green and gold, 



To me hath often flown, 

 Here in my blossoms to behold 



Wings lovely as his own. 

 When grass is chill with rain or dew, 

 Beneath my shade the mother ewe 



Lies with her infant lamb ; I see 

 The love they to each other make ; 

 And the sweet joy which they partake 

 90 It is a joy to me/ 



Her voice was blithe, her heart was light: 



The Broom might have pursued 

 Her speech until the stars of night 



Their journey had renewed ; 



