Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/195



a wish, and it is this, that in some uncouth glen, It were my lot to find a spot unknown by selfish men; Where I might be securely free, like Eremite of old, From Worldly guile, from Woman's wile, and Friendships brief and cold; And where I might, with stern delight, enjoy the varied form Of Nature's mood, in every rude burst of the thundering storm.

Then would my life, lacking fierce strife, glide on in dreamy gladness, Nor would I know the cark and woe which come of this world's madness; While in a row, like some poor show, its pageantries would pass, Without a sigh, before mine eye, as shadows o'er a glass: