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Depressed I hear, how faithless is the voice
Which those most blissful days reverberate.
What special record can, or need be given
To rules and habits, whereby much was done
But all within the sphere of little things?
Of humble, though, to us, important cares,
And precious interests! Smoothly did our life
Advance, not swerving from the path prescribed;
Her annual, her diurnal round alike
Maintained with faithful care. And you divine
The worst effects which our condition saw
If you imagine changes slowly wrought,
And in their progress imperceptible,
Not wished for, sometimes noticed with a sigh,
(Whate'er of good or lovely they might bring)
Sighs of regret, for the familiar good,
And loveliness endeared—which they removed.
Seven years of occupation undisturbed
Established seemingly a right to hold
That happiness; and use and habit gave
To what an alien spirit had acquired
A patrimonial sanctity. And thus,
