To exclaim--'O happy! yielding to the law Of these privations, richer in the main!-- While thankless thousands are opprest and clogged 830 By ease and leisure; by the very wealth And pride of opportunity made poor; While tens of thousands falter in their path, And sink, through utter want of cheering light; For you the hours of labour do not flag; 835 For you each evening hath its shining star, And every sabbath-day its golden sun.'" "Yes!" said the Solitary with a smile That seemed to break from an expanding heart, "The untutored bird may found, and so construct, 840 And with such soft materials line, her nest Fixed in the centre of a prickly brake, That the thorns wound her not; they only guard. Powers not unjustly likened to those gifts Of happy instinct which the woodland bird 845 Shares with her species, nature's grace sometimes Upon the individual doth confer, Among her[495] higher creatures born and trained To use of reason. And, I own that, tired Of the ostentatious world--a swelling stage 850 With empty actions and vain passions stuffed, And from the private struggles of mankind Hoping far[496] less than I could wish to hope, Far less than once I trusted and believed-- I love to hear of those, who, not contending 855 Nor summoned to contend for virtue's prize, Miss not the humbler good at which they aim, Blest with a kindly faculty to blunt The edge of adverse circumstance, and turn Into their contraries the petty plagues 860 And hindrances with which they stand beset. In early youth, among my native hills, I knew a Scottish Peasant who possessed A few small crofts of stone-encumbered ground; Masses of every shape and size, that lay 865 Scattered about under[497] the mouldering walls Of a rough precipice; and some, apart, In quarters unobnoxious to such chance, As if the moon had showered them down in spite. But he repined not. Though the plough was scared 870 By these obstructions, 'round the shady stones A fertilising moisture,' said the Swain, 'Gathers, and is preserved; and feeding dews 'And damps, through all the droughty summer day 'From out their substance issuing, maintain 875 'Herbage that never fails: no grass springs up 'So green, so fresh, so plentiful, as mine!' But[498] thinly sown these natures; rare, at least, The mutual aptitude of seed and soil That yields such kindly product. He, whose bed 880 Perhaps yon loose sods cover, the poor Pensioner Brought yesterday from our sequestered dell Here to lie down in lasting quiet, he, If living now, could otherwise report