Ar from the giddy court of mirth,
Where sick'ning follies reign,
By Levern banks I wander forth
To hail each sylvan scene.
All hail, ye dear romantic shades!
Ye banks, ye woods, and sunny glades!
Here oft the musing poet treads
In Nature's riches great;
Contrasts the country with the town,
Makes nature's beauties all his own,
And, borne on Fancy's wings, looks down
On empty pride and state.

By dewy dawn, or sultry noon,
Or sober evening gray,
I'll often quit the dinsome town,
By Levern banks to stray;
Or from the upland's mossy brow,
Enjoy the fancy-pleasing view
Of streamlets, woods, and fields below,
A sweetly varied scene!
Give riches to the miser's care,
Let Folly shine in Fashion's glare,
Give me the wealth of peace and health,
With all their happy train.