And clamours of the field? Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another’s pain, That feeds upon the sobs and dying shrieks Of harmless nature, dumb, but yet endued With eloquence, that agonies inspire, Of silent tears and heart-distending sighs! Vain tears, alas! and sighs that never find A corresponding tone in jovial souls. Well—one at least is safe. One sheltered hare Has never heard the sanguinary yell Of cruel man, exulting in her woes. Innocent partner of my peaceful home, Whom ten long years’ experience of my care Has made at last familiar, she has lost Much of her vigilant instinctive dread, Not needful here, beneath a roof like mine. Yes—thou mayst eat thy bread, and lick the hand That feeds thee; thou mayst frolic on the floor At evening, and at night retire secure To thy straw-couch, and slumber unalarmed; For I have gained thy confidence, have pledged All that is human in me to protect Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love. If I survive thee I will dig thy grave, And when I place thee in it, sighing say, I knew at least one hare that had a friend. How various his employments, whom the world Calls idle, and who justly in return Esteems that busy world an idler, too! Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen, Delightful industry enjoyed at home, And nature in her cultivated trim Dressed to his taste, inviting him abroad— Can he want occupation who has these? Will he be idle who has much to enjoy? Me, therefore, studious of laborious ease, Not slothful; happy to deceive the time, Not waste it; and aware that human life Is but a loan to be repaid with use, When He shall call His debtors to account, From whom are all our blessings; business finds Even here: while sedulous I seek to improve, At least neglect not, or leave unemployed, The mind He gave me; driving it, though slack Too oft, and much impeded in its work By causes not to be divulged in vain, To its just point—the service of mankind. He that attends to his interior self, That has a heart and keeps it; has a mind That hungers and supplies it; and who seeks A social, not a dissipated life, Has business; feels himself engaged to achieve No unimportant, though a silent task. A life all turbulence and noise may seem, To him that leads it, wise and to be praised; But wisdom is a pearl with most success Sought in still water, and beneath clear skies. He that is ever occupied in storms, Or dives not for it or brings up instead, Vainly industrious, a disgraceful prize.