And I, contented with an humble theme,
Have pour'd my stream of panegyric down
The vale of nature, where it creeps, and winds
Among her lovely works, with a secure,
And unambitious course, reflečting clear,
If not the virtues, yet the worth of brutes.
And I am recompens'd, and deem the toils
Of poetry not lost, if verse of mine
May stand between in animal and woe,
And teach one tyrant pity for his drudge.