Classic Poem

A SHEPHERD swain, the simplest of his kind,
Nor by experience taught, nor books refin'd,
As on a rising ground one morn he stood,
With envious eyes a neighbouring castle view'd;
Castle and palace both arose confest,
And strait the peasant call'd the owner blest .
" Sure care and danger hence are far " away,
" Where spiry turrets glitter on the day,
" Alike for grandeur and for safety made,
" Its wealthy lord rests in the lofty shade,
" While I, alas! (no more my fate could " give),
" Earn bread with toil, and in a cottage " live. "
Sighing he said, and left the envy'd height,
But frequent turn'd, and sicken'd at the sight.
'Twas on the fertile, fair Sicilian shore
The castle stood, where foaming surges roar;
But far remote, within an humble vale,
With olives shelter'd from each ruder gale,
Stood the lone cottage, which its maer scorn'd,
Because not lofty built nor much adorn'd.
Now night approaching, rising winds were heard,
And fiery meteors in the air appear'd:
Old Ætna groan'd within, but yet on high
Shot forth no flame, tho' clouds obscur'd the sky:
Now in her secret caves Earth shook and reel'd,
The mountains totter'd, trembled all the field;
Bursting at length all bounds, convulsions strong
Heave off earth's load, and ruin pour along;
But most the lofty buildings feel its pow'r,
Long shakes the castle, totters every tower,
'Till down at last in dread confusion thrown,
Its owner crush'd, its place scarce longer known,
Half the vast deep receives with heaving tide,
And half wide-yawning gulphs for ever hide.
But in the olive vale all rests secure,
And tho' they feel the shock, no more endure;
The scantling boards excel the palace walls,
For scarce a straw from the thatch'd cottage falls.
The conscious peasant, struck with vast surprise,
To Heav'n, before accus'd, now turns his eyes,
With grateful heart God's saving mercy owns,
And in submissive pray'r his fault atones;
Resolv'd no more undue complaints to raise,
But in content to spend his future days.