O leave this barren spot to me! Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree.
The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn, Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return.
He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of the day, spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay.
His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest.
Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,Whose truths electrify the sage.
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