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" Another lord now rules thoſe wide domains,
" The avaricious tyrant of the plains,
" Far, far from hence he revels life away,
" In guilty pleaſures, our poor means muſt pay.
" The moſſy plains, the mountain's barren brow,
" Muſt now be tortur'd by the rearing plough,
" And, ſpite of nature, crops be taught to riſe,
" Which to theſe northern climes wiſe Heav'n denies.
" In vain, with ſweating brow and weary hands,
" We ſtrive to earn the gold our lord demands,
" While cold and hunger, and the dungeon's gloom,
" Await our failure as its ccrtain doom.
" To ſhun theſe ills that threat my hoary head,
" I ſeek in foreign lands precarious bread;
" Forc'd, tho' my helpleſs age from guilt be pure,
" The pangs of baniſh'd felons to endure;
" And all becauſe theſe hands have vainly try'd
" To force from art what nature has deny'd;
" Becauſe my little all will not ſuffice
" To pay th' inſatiate claims of Avaricc.
" In vain, of richer climates I am told,
" Whoſe hills are rich in gems, whoſe ſtreams are gold,
" I am contented here, I ne'er have feen
" A valc morc fertile, nor a hill more green,
" Nor would I leave this ſweet, though humble cot,
" To ſhare the richeſt monarch's envied lot.
" O! would to Heavcn the alternative were mine,
