He from friends, and from converse would fly.
In weeping a luxury found,
And reliev'd others' woes with a sigh.

11

In solitude long would he stay,
And long lock'd in silence his tongue;
Then he humm'd an elegiac lay,
Or a Psalm penitential he sung:
But if with his Friends he regal'd,
His Mirth, as his Griefs, knew no bounds;
In no Tale of Mark Sargent he sail'd,
Nor in all Robin Hood's Derry-downs.

12

Thro' the poor Widow's long lonely years,
Her Father supported us all:
Yet sure she was loaded with cares,
Being left with six Children so small.
Meagre Want never lifted her latch;
Her cottage was still tight and clean;
And the casement beneath it's low thatch
Commanded a view o'er the Green.

13

O'er the Green, where so often she blest
The return of a Husband or Son,
Coming happily home to their rest,
At night, when their labour, was done:
Where so oft in her earlier years,
She, with transport maternal, has seen
(While plying her housewifely cares)
Her Children all safe on the Green.

14

The Green was our pride through the year,
For in Spring, when the wild flow'rets blew,
Tho' many rich pastures were near,
Where Cowslips and Daffodils grew;
And tho' such gallant flow'rs were our choice,
It was bliss interrupted by Fear--
The Fear of their Owner's dread voice,
Harshly bawling "You've no business here."

15

While the Green, tho' but Daisies it's boast,
Was free as the Flow'rs to the Bee;
In all seasons the Green we lov'd most,
Because on the Green we were free;
'Twas the prospect that first met my eyes,
And Memory still blesses the scene;
For early my heart learnt to prize
The Freedom of Honington Green.

16

No Peasant had pin'd at his lot,
Tho' new fences the lone Heath enclose:
For, alas! the blest days are forgot,
When poor Men had their Sheep and their Cows.
Still had Labour been blest with Content,
Still Competence happy had been,
Nor Indigence utter'd a plaint,
Had Avarice spar'd but the Green.

17

Not Avarice itself could be mov'd
By desire of a morsel so small:
It could not be lucre he lov'd;
But to rob the poor folk of their all.
He in wantonness ope'd his wide jaws,