A pleasing land of drowsyhed it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, Forever flushing round a summer sky: There eke the soft delights that witchingly Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast, And the calm pleasures always hoverd nigh; But whateer smackd of noyance or unrest Was far, far off expelld from this delicious nest.
I care not, Fortune, what you me deny: You cannot rob me of free Natures grace, You cannot shut the windows of the sky Through which Aurora shows her brightening face; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve: Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave: Of fancy, reason, virtue, naught can me bereave.