76 MEMOIR OF 



Where winds, perhaps, our woods may sometimes shake, 

 But blustering care can tempest never make. 



Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us, . 



Saving of fountains that glide by us. 



Here's no fantastic masque or dance. 

 But of our kids that frisk and i)ranee ; 



Nor wars are seen. 



Unless upon the green 

 Two harmless lambs are butting one another. 

 Which done, both bleating run each to his mother ; 



And woimds are never found. 



Save what the ploughshare gives the ground. 



