James Beattie

Changed to a lapwing by th' avenging god,
He made the barren waste his lone abode,
And read more

Changed to a lapwing by th' avenging god,
He made the barren waste his lone abode,
And oft on soaring pinions hover'd o'er
The lofty palace then his own no more.

From labour health, from health contentment spring;
Contentment opes the source of every joy.

From labour health, from health contentment spring;
Contentment opes the source of every joy.

No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,
Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;
Each season read more

No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,
Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;
Each season looked delightful as it past,
To the fond husband and the faithful wife.

Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down;
Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,
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Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down;
Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,
With here and there a violet bestrown,
Fast by a brook or fountain's murmuring wave;
And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.

How sweet the words of Truth, breath'd from the lips of Love.

How sweet the words of Truth, breath'd from the lips of Love.