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(246) Page 238 - Though humble my lot
238
THOUGH HUMBLE MY LOT.
Air~Her sheep had in clusters.
V? here primroses spring on the green tufted brae>
And the riv'let runs murm'ring below,
! Fortune, at morning, or noon, let me stray,
And thy wealth on thy vot'ries bestow !
For, O ! how enraptur'd my bosom does glow !
As calmly I wander alane,
"Where wild woods, and bushes^ and primroses grow,
And a streamlet enlivens the scene.
Tho' humble my lot, not ignoble's my state,
Let me still be contented, tho' poor ;
What Destiny brings, be resigned to my fate,
Tho* Misfortune should knock at my door.
1 care not for honour, preferment, nor wealth,
Nor the titles that Affluence yields,
While blythely I roam, in the hey-day of health^
'Midst the charms of my dear native fields.

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