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From some aspiring mountain's crown,
How dearly do I love, Giddy with pleasure, to look down ; And, from the vales, to view the noble heights above. () my beloved caves, from dog-star's heat, And all anxieties, my safe retreat; What safety, privacy, what true delight, In the artificial night Your gloomy entrails makes, Have I taken, do I take ; How oft, when grief has made me fly, To hide me from society, E'en of my dearest friends, have I,
In your recesses' friendly shade, All my sorrows open laid, And my most secret woes intrusted to your privacy.
Lord ! I would men let me alone, What an over-happy one
Should I think myself to be ; Might, I in this desert place, (Which most men in discourse disgrace,)
Live but undisturb'd and free ; Here, in this despised recess,
Would I, maugre winter's cold, And the summer's worst excess, Try to live out to sixty full years old ; And, all the while,
Without an envious eye On any thriving under fortune's smile, Contented live, and then contented die.