Sonnet VII (Written in the Highlands of Scotland, 1767)

Had I but met whence Nature bade expect
That just return of tenderness exprest,
That mutual generosity of mind,
And liberal turn, which judging from my breast
I fondly thought to others were consign'd,
Always reluctant meanly to suspect:
I should not far, far from my native home,
With numerous cares in my sad bosom pent
Have hither e'er prolong'd my wandering tread;
Not willingly, but driven by fate to roam.
I should not then have press'd this cheerless bed,
To sharp reflection, more than pain, a prey,
Chewing the cud of bitter discontent,
Where these high hills the Lomond Lake survey.