James Beattie

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

And from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Woe,
O never, never turn away their ear!
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And from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Woe,
O never, never turn away their ear!
Forlorn, in this bleak wilderness below,
Ah! what were man, should Heaven refuse to hear!

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.

Be ignorance thy choice, where knowledge leads to woe.

Be ignorance thy choice, where knowledge leads to woe.

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.