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I, loving freedom, and untried;No sport of every random gust,Yet being to myself a guide,Too blindly have reposed my trust:Resolved that nothing e'er should pressUpon my present happiness,I shoved unwelcome tasks away;But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may.
Through no disturbance of my soul,Or strong compunction in me wrought,I supplicate for thy controul;But in the quietness of thought:Me this uncharter'd freedom tires;I feel the weight of chance desires:My hopes no more must change their name,I long for a repose which ever is the same.
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