But canst Thou, tender Maid, canst Thou sustain
Afflictive Want, or Hunger's pressing Pain?
Those Limbs, in Lawn and softest Silk array'd,
From Sun-beams guarded, and of Winds afraid;
Can they bear angry ? Can they resist
The parching Dog-star, and the bleak North-East?
When chill'd by adverse Snows, and beating Rain,
We tread with weary Steps the longsome Plain;
When with hard Toil We seek our Ev'ning Food,
Berries and Acorns, from the neighb'ring Wood;
And find among the Cliffs no other House,
But the thin Covert of some gather'd Boughs;
Wilt Thou not then reluctant send thine Eye
Around the dreary Waste; and weeping try
(Tho' then, alas! that Tryal be too late)
To find thy Father's Hospitable Gate,
And Seats, where Ease and Plenty brooding sate?
Those Seats, whence long excluded Thou must mourn:
That Gate, for ever barr'd to thy Return:
Wilt Thou not then bewail ill-fated Love,
And hate a banish'd Man, condemn'd in Woods to rove?