The meanest flowret of the vale, / The simplest note that swells the gale, / The common sun, the air, and skies, / To him are opening paradise.
And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.
A fav'rite has no friend!
Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far,-but far above the great.
Ruin seize thee, ruthless king! Confusion on thy banners wait! Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state.