Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.

Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved in vain! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow.

Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.

Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame, Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame.

And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose.

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.

Thought would destroy their paradise.