APPENDIX. 
199 
We find Pope writing, at a very early age, — 
“ Happy the man, whose wish and care 
A few paternal acres bound, 
Content to breathe his native air 
In his own ground. 
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, 
Whose flocks supply him with attire; 
Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
In winter fire. 
Blessed who can unconcernedly find 
Hours, days, and years, slide soft away, 
In health of body, peace of mind, 
Quiet by day,— 
Sound sleep by night; study and ease 
Together mixed, sweet recreation, 
And innocence, which most does please 
With meditation.” 
A poem by Warton runs as follows ■: — 
“ On beds of daisies idly laid, 
The willow waving o’er my head, 
Now morning on the bending stem 
Hangs the round and glittering gem. 
Lulled by the lapse of yonder spring. 
Of nature’s various charms I sing: 
Ambition, pride, and pomp, adieu, 
For what has joy to do with you ? 
