In Vain Doth Valour Bleed, While Avarice

Come To The Sunset Tree! The Day Is Past And Gone; The Woodman's Axe Lies Free, And The Reaper's Work Is Done.

His Spear, To Equal Which The Tallest Pine Hewn On Norwegian Hills To Be The Mast Of Some Great Ammiral Were But A Wand, He Walk'd With To Support Uneasy Steps Over The Burning Marle.

And Every Shepherd Tells His Tale Under The Hawthorn In The Dale.

Sweet Bird, That Shun The Noise Of Folly, Most Musical, Most Melancholy!

Seasoned Life Of Man Preserved And Stored Up In Books.