I raise my head and contemplate the lovely scene.

Clouds rise, unwilling, from the bottom of the hills: the weary bird seeks its nest again.

Shadows vanish, but still I linger round my lonely pine.

Home once more! I'll have no friendships to distract me hence.

The times are out of joint for me; and what have I to seek from men?
In the pure enjoyment of the family circle I will pass my days, cheering my idle hours with lute and book.