But most the Bard is true to inborn right, Lark of the dawn, and Philomel of night, Exults in freedom, can with rapture vouch For the dear blessings of a lowly couch, 84 A natural meal--days, months, from Nature's hand; Time, place, and business, all at his command!-- Who bends to happier duties, who more wise Than the industrious Poet, taught to prize, Above all grandeur, a pure life uncrossed By cares in which simplicity is lost? 90 That life--the flowery path that[609] winds by stealth-- Which Horace needed for his spirit's health;[610] Sighed for, in heart and genius, overcome By noise and strife, and questions wearisome, And the vain splendours of Imperial Rome?--[611] 95 Let easy mirth his social hours inspire, And fiction animate his sportive lyre, Attuned to verse that, crowning light Distress With garlands, cheats her into happiness; Give _me_ the humblest note of those sad strains 100 Drawn forth by pressure of his gilded chains, As a chance-sunbeam from his memory fell Upon the Sabine farm he loved so well;[612] Or when the prattle of Blandusia's spring[613] Haunted his ear--he only listening-- 105 He proud to please, above all rivals, fit To win the palm of gaiety and wit; He, doubt not, with involuntary dread, Shrinking from each new favour to be shed, By the world's Ruler, on his honoured head! 110 In a deep vision's intellectual scene, Such earnest longings and regrets as keen Depressed the melancholy Cowley, laid Under a fancied yew-tree's luckless shade; A doleful bower for penitential song, 115 Where Man and Muse complained of mutual wrong; While Cam's ideal current glided by, And antique towers nodded their foreheads high, Citadels dear to studious privacy. But Fortune, who had long been used to sport 120 With this tried Servant of a thankless Court, Relenting met his wishes; and to you The remnant of his days at least was true; You, whom, though long deserted, he loved best; You, Muses, books, fields, liberty, and rest![614] 125 Far[615] happier they who, fixing hope and aim On the humanities of peaceful fame, Enter betimes with more than martial fire The generous course, aspire, and still aspire; Upheld by warnings heeded not too late 130 Stifle the contradictions of their fate, And to one purpose cleave, their Being's godlike mate!