Dear Nature is the kindest mother still!

Though always changing, in her aspect mild;

From her bare bosom let me take my fill,

Her never-weaned, though not her favoured child.[ev]

Oh! she is fairest in her features wild,

Where nothing polished dares pollute her path:

To me by day or night she ever smiled,

Though I have marked her when none other hath,

And sought her more and more, and loved her best in wrath.[137]