text:  Curtain thy heavens thou Jove with clouds and mist And like a boy that moweth thistles down Unloose thy spleen on oaks and mountain-tops; Yet canst thou not deprive me of my earth Nor of my hut the which thou didst not build Nor of my hearth whose little cheerful flame Thou enviest me! I know not aught within the universe More slight more pitiful than you ye Gods! Who nurse your majesty with scant supplies Of offerings wrung from fear and mutter'd prayers And needs must starve were't not that babes and beggars Are hope-besotted fools! When I was yet a child and knew not whence My being came nor where to turn its powers Up to the sun I bent my wilder'd eye As though above within its glorious orb There dwelt an ear to listen to my plaint A heart like mine to pity the oppress'd