KEATH. 91 
HEATH. 
SOLITUDE. 
The meadows are covered with flowers, the 
plains with waving corn, and the hills with dark- 
some woods. Happy swains ! — ye can dance in 
the meadows ; ye can crown your brows with the 
golden wreaths of Ceres ; ye can rest yourselves in 
the shade of the woods — for to thee happy life is 
one scene of joy. 
As for me, with Melancholy for my guide, I will 
stroll to those sequestered spots where the humble 
Heath, which delights in solitude, maintains its 
ground against advancing cultivation. There, seat- 
ed beneath the drooping Broom, I will indulge my 
gloomy thoughts ; whilst creatures, unfortunate, 
harassed, and afflicted, like myself, will collect 
around mc from all sides. The partridge, chased 
