"Regions Caesar never knew Thy posterity shall sway; Where his eagles never flew, None invincible as they." Such the bard's prophetic words, Pregnant… - William Cowper

His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.

My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,
With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head,
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.
'Tis a sight to engage me, if anything can,
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man;
Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments I see,
Have a being less durable even than he.

Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature.