Page:The Domestic Affections, and Other Poems.pdf/38



’Tis mine to rove the hill, the dale, To wander through embow'ring trees; The soul of freshness to inhale, The mountain-breeze.

Then, tyrant of the ling'ring hour, Ah! why with me delight to rest? Hence far away, tormenting pow'r,       Unwelcome guest!