II.

Born within the lowly cottage To a destiny obscure, Doom'd through youth's exulting spring-time But to labour and endure-- Yet Despair he elbow'd from him; Nature breathed with holy joy, In the hues of morn and evening, On the eyelids of the boy; And his country's Genius bound him Laurels for his sun-burn'd brow, When inspired and proud she found him, Like Elisha, at the plough.