Perhaps, poor Rab may hold Utopian views,
And paint the land he loves in partial hues:
But sweet Content the Peasant's lot can cheer,
And teach the wrongs of rugged climes to bear,
With precious blessings every season store,
And on the dregs of life its cordial pour:
Content and Custom are the means designed
By Heaven, to cheer and moderate the mind,
To lessen pleasures, and make hardships light,
Till the proud castle and the cot unite.
And ye! of fairer—richer stores possessed,
By Nature's kind and fostering hand caressed,
O! ne'er our Peasant's humble lot disdain,
Nor blame his partial thought, nor chide his homely strain.