How little of outward Good suffices for Happiness.

Give Love and honest Industry their way,

Clear but the Sun-rise of Life's little day,

Those we term poor shall oft that wealth obtain,

For which th’ ambitious sigh, but sigh in vain:

Wealth that still brightens, as its stores increase;

The calm of Conscience, and the reign of Peace.

Walter's enamour'd Soul, from news like this,

Now felt the dawnings of his future bliss;

E'en as the Red-breast shelt'ring in a bower,

Mourns the short darkness of a passing Shower,

Then, while the azure sky extends around,

Darts on a worm that breaks the moisten'd ground,

And mounts the dripping fence, with joy elate,

And shares the prize triumphant with his mate;

So did the Youth;— the treasure straight became

An humble servant to Love's sacred flame;

Glorious subjection!— Thus his silence broke:

Joy gave him words; still quick'ning as he spoke.