Sonnet.
18th Century John Scott EnglishSONNET.
BY THE SAME.
OF Adverse Fortune gentle Shenstone 'plain'd, The liberal soul, the taste that Nature gave; In narrow bounds her partial hand restrain'd, But pour'd profusion on the titled slave:
Like his my lot, alike by me disdain'd The pomp of courts, one only boon I crave, O'er my fields fair as those Elysian feign'd, To bid the green walk wind, the green wood wave;
On the high hill to raise the higher tower, To ope wide prospects over distant plains, Where by broad rivers, towns, and villa's rise; Taste prompts the wish, but Fortune bounds the power, Yet while Health chears, and Competence sustains, These more than all Contentment bids me prize.