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

Here turn thine eyes, thou bloated Luxury,
That pamper'st thy nice taste with viands rare,
Arraying thy soft limbs in cloathing vain,
Sumptuous and delicate, and thou shalt see
With what small reason men like thee complain,
And how superfluous is thy idle care.
The shed with uncemented stones built low,
With flaggy grass, or rushes overlaid,
The fire of humble turf, the bed of straw
Hard by, with one sole coverlid bespread;
Thus meanly lives the Caledonian Sire
With his half-naked Progeny around,
Yet joy, and calm content his mind inspire,
And every night He bathes in sleep profound.