Written at Steephill Cottage

When all their tricks we can disarm,
How little Courts and States appear!
The wreath of Nature's fairy-charm,
Secluded from the world, is here.

In Dysart's unassuming worth
Reflected is the lovely scene;
His mind is nobler than his birth,
It is majestic, though serene.

The modest beauties of his life
Glance on the favour'd Pilgrim's view;
Each with an emulating strife,
The vary'd contest ever new.

It is the Genius of his place
That in his character appears:
'Tis Nature's free unborrow'd grace,
That his benevolence endears.

The tablet which these truths command
Is guilty of no venal praise:
It is the heart that prompts the hand ,
And Pride the debt of Honour pays.
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