She touched him with her harp and raised him from the ground; The shaken strings melodiously resound. 'Art thou returned at last,' said she, 'To this forsaken place and me? Thou prodigal! who didst so loosely waste Of all thy youthful years the good estate; Art thou returned here, to repent too late? And gather husks of learning up at last, Now the rich harvest-time of life is past, And winter marches on so fast? But when I meant to adopt thee for my son, And did as learned a portion assign As ever any of the mighty nine Had to their dearest children done; When I resolved to exalt thy anointed name Among the spiritual lords of peaceful fame; Thou changeling! thou, bewitch'd with noise and show, Wouldst into courts and cities from me go; Wouldst see the world abroad, and have a share In all the follies and the tumults there; Thou wouldst, forsooth, be something in a state, And business thou wouldst find, and wouldst create: Business! the frivolous pretence Of human lusts, to shake off innocence; Business! the grave impertinence; Business! the thing which I of all things hate; Business! the contradiction of thy fate. 'Go, renegado! cast up thy account, And see to what amount Thy foolish gains by quitting me: The sale of knowledge, fame, and liberty, The fruits of thy unlearned apostasy. Thou thoughtst, if once the public storm were past, All thy remaining life should sunshine be: Behold the public storm is spent at last, The sovereign is tossed at sea no more, And thou, with all the noble company, Art got at last to shore: But whilst thy fellow-voyagers I see, All marched up to possess the promised land, Thou still alone, alas! dost gaping stand, Upon the naked beach, upon the barren sand. As a fair morning of the blessed spring, After a tedious, stormy night, Such was the glorious entry of our king; Enriching moisture dropped on every thing: Plenty he sowed below, and cast about him light. But then, alas! to thee alone One of old Gideon's miracles was shown, For every tree, and every hand around, With pearly dew was crowned, And upon all the quickened ground The fruitful seed of heaven did brooding lie, And nothing but the Muse's fleece was dry. It did all other threats surpass, When God to his own people said, The men whom through long wanderings he had led, That he would give them even a heaven of brass: They looked up to that heaven in vain, That bounteous heaven! which God did not restrain Upon the most unjust to shine and rain.