No more the skies serenely blue appear,
Which late with joy the peaceful peasant view'd;
Nor through his meads, where bloom'd the flow'ry food
Due to the labours of his patient steer,
He muses grateful: but with drooping ear
Low sinks the corn, by furious storms subdued;
And o'er pale earth eternal vapours brood,
To blast the promise of the plenteous year.
Such is the life of man: his chearful way
Awhile the cloudless SuNof Hope illumes;
Light, Joy, and Pleasure, wing the festive day,
Secure he roves 'mid bow'rs of sweet perfumes:
But soon his disappointed eyes survey
The toilsome road o'ercast with black'ning glooms.