Nor is she to the heavens confin'd;
Forth on the morning's wing she rides,
She skims the glowing evening's purple tides,
And leaves the setting sun behind.
Where doves sit cooing at the noon-tide hour,
And linnets warble in the woodbine bower;
Where the pale moon her lustre spreads,
The love-lorn bird divides her song,
The soft flute sooths the rural throng,
And dew-drops load the flowrets' heads;
Where the ingenuous chorus sings,
The delicate touch flies o'er the trembling strings,
From the gilt roof the symphony rebounds;
Thine, goddess, are the charms, and thine the silver
sounds.
The buxom air, the saphire main,
All height and depth confess thy gracious reign:
But chief is thy delight to dwell
Lodg'd in the human breast thy dearest cell.
Favour and friendship meet thee there,
And tender transport with the gushing tear:
There wedlock at thy altar bends,
There halcyon peace securely broods,
And meek tranquillity attends
To quell unruly rage, and sooth the swelling floods.
Now by the magic of thy tongue,
That call'd up first the rolling spheres,
Thro' the gay circle of revolving years,
With rapturous sounds of mystic song,
Attun'd in heavenly harmony to run :
And by the virtue of th' enchanting zone,
Which when the fair Idalian queen
Accepts, with universal sway
The smiles and winning passions play
In her resistless look and mien;
The loves the heavenly gift admire,
And tip their little darts with lambent fire;
Fresh wreaths the graces bring, and form the round, Where rising daisies mark the measur'd ground.
Now by the rosy mildness sweet,
Of which when youthful Spring awakes,
From thy abundance amply she partakes,
What time the silk-plum'd zephyrs meet
In Saba's groves, to kiss the bending blooms
With balmy lips, and wanton in perfumes;
And by the ripened, redolent grace,
When Summer in the Persian fields
To sober-seeming Autumn yields
Her treasures on the loaded sprays,
The sky-rob'd plum, the purple vine,
The velvet peach, and damask nectarine;
While Plenty, waving her Hesperian bough,
Gladdens Pomona with the golden show.
Great goddess! with the words of peace Bid this wild uproar of contention cease;
Bid amity with gentle ray,
The woes that low'r on Faction's brow display.
Shall Rome to thee a rebel prove?
For hellish hate abandon heavenly love?
Here, gentle Concord, on each breast
Let thy spring-sweetness bland distil,
Here thy ambrosial fragrance rest,
And all mankind obey thy sovereign will.
Tecum vivere amem, tecum obeam libens. Hor.
CONTEMPLATION, lovely fair,
Far from scenes of noise and care,
Evermore delights to dwell
In the still sequester'd cell:
Lead me then, propitious power,
To thy lonely, rural bower;
To the silent, shady wood,
To the rivulet's dimpling flood:
And, on summer mornings, lead
To the russet heath or mead:
To the cot's plain simple door,
The ploughman's peaceful, happy floor:
Where Phyllis brings her loaded pail,
And young affection lisps its tale;
Lead to dusky lanes or shades,
Where tall oaks lift high their heads;
To the seat of happiness,
To the garden's lov'd recess;
Beds with pinks and roses gay,
The pride and boast of June and May.
Contemplation, nymph serene,
Guide to lawns, or uplands green,
Or near the promontory's side—
Let me hear the roaring tide,
Hear old Ocean's wild waves roll;
Or the sad knell slowly toll,
Or, at gloomy hour of day,
With me to the church-yard stray,
And meditate among the dead;
While the sexton plies his spade,
There peruse the time-worn stones,
Or, as he turns up human bones,
Think on what I soon must be,
Think on vast eternity:
'Till torches dissipate the gloom,
And the sable mourners come;
'Till the venerable priest,
In his snowy surplice dress'd,
Loudly begins the solemn lines,
And dust to dust," at length consigns.
Hail! matron lovely, tho' demure,
Ever chaste and ever pure,
Diffuse thy balm into my breast,
Bring with thee happiness and rest:
Sooth each melancholy sigh,
Teach me to live, and teach to die!
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