Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned. The love he bore to learning was in fault; The parlor splendors of that festive place: The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, As some fair female unadorned and plain, If to the city sped what waits him there? Are these thy serious thoughts?. Ah turn thing on Has wept at tales of innocence distrest; And, pinched with cold, and shrinking from the shower, She left her wheel and robes of country brown. Do thine, sweet Auburn, -thine, the loveliest train, Do thy fair tribes participate her pain? Even now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led, Those matted woods, where birds forget to sing, Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriance crowned, Mil:. the preced landscape with the skies. |