The busy mind's ideal store;
There, heaven-rapt Newton, guide my way
'Mid rolling worlds, thro' floods of day.
To mark the vagrant comet's road,
And thro' his wonders trace the God,
Then, to unbend my mind, I'll roam
Amidst the cloysters silent gloom;
Or, where rank'd oaks their shade diffuse,
Hold dalliance with my darling Muse,
Recalling oft some heaven-born strain.
That warbled in Augustan reign;
Or turn well pleas'd the Grecian page,
If sweet Theocritus engage,
Or blith Anacreon, mirthful wight,
Carol his easy love-lay light.
Yet let not all my pleasure lie
Confin'd to one Phoebeian joy;
But ever give my fingers wings,
Lightly to skim the trembling strings,
And from some bower to tune the lay;
While list'ning birds crowd every spray,
Or hovering silent o'er my head,
Their quivering wings exulting spread ;
Save but the turtles, they alone,
With tender plaintive faithful moan,
Shall tell, to all the secret grove,
Their soft thick-warbled tale of love :
Sweet birds! your mingling bliss pursuing,
Ever billing, ever cooing,
Ye constant pair! I love to note
Your hoarse strain gurgling in your throat;
And ye unheard from sidelong hills
The liquid lapse of whispering rills,
I hist to hear: such sounds diffuse
Sweet transports to the thoughtful Muse.
Thus summer sees me brisk and light,
'Till winter spreads her 'kerchief white;
Then to the cities social walls
Where tolling clock to business calls.
There the weaver's shuttle speeds
Nimbly through the fine-spun threads:
There the vocal anvil rings,
While the smith his hammer swings:
And every man and every boy,
Briskly join in warm employ,
Thro' such throng'd scenes full oft I'll range,
Oft crowd into the rich exchange :
Or to yon wharf; aside the moat,
Where the anchor'd ships do float,
And others hastening into bay,
Swell their sails in fair array:
Wafting to Albion's sons the store
That each Peruvian mine can pour ;
Wafting to Albion's smiling dames
The ruby's glow, the diamond's flames,
Till all the Indies rush into the Thames.
Joys vast as these my fancy claims;
And joys like these if Peace inspire,
Peace, with thee I string the lyre.
HENCE! unrelenting Cares,
That haunt the proud, and rend the miser's breast, And far expel delightsome rest,
And bring disquiet, sleepless nights, and starting fears;
Hence! and that mind controul,
Where sickly Pining takes her hated seat,
With Grief and Dread; companions meet :
There, far from me, exert thine iron sway,
And every tedious night and day
Reign o'er the heart, and occupy the soul.
But come, thou Goddess, fond and free,
Auspicious Love, and dwell with me,
Thou whom, with thy wreathed shell,
Old Ocean bore (as Poets tell)
While round thee, beauteous, blooming Maid,
Deftly the frisking dolphins play'd.
Come, and bring thy wanton Boy,
Cause of fondness, source of joy,
And bid him take that golden dart,
That erst transfix'd Apollo's heart,
When, with full force and winged speed,
O'er tufted lawn, and flowery mead,
Now slow, with long toil, up some steep,
Now down precipitately deep,
Thro' many a grove, and many a glade,
The God pursued the flying Maid.
Bring besides thy joyous Train,
Soft supporters of thy reign,
Wanton Smiles, Endearments charming,
Mirth and Coyness unalarming,
Whispers, Kisses, Sighs, and Fears,
Lovely Looks and trickling Tears,
Joy of festive, sprightly mien,
And Innocence of look serene;
Thy smiling Train can never cloy,
If led by Innocence and Joy.
Permit me, Goddess, fond and free,
To join with them, and join with thee;
Ever present, ever by,
Thus let me live, thus let me die.
Rise we when the meek-eyed morn
Doth the spangled meads adorn ;
When every bird, from every spray,
Tunes various his love-labour'd lay.
Lo! from yon cloud the flaming sun
'Gins his stated course to run,
Brightening rays incessant streaming,
Dew-drops sparkling, twinkling, beaming,
Refreshed Nature smiles anew,
And brings her brightest charms to view.
On Delia thinking will I stray,
Heedless, where I chuse the way,
Over distant hills and dales,
Bleating mountains, lowing vales;
By silent river, rolling flood,
Fringed meadow, waving wood,
Where Flora does her sweets dispense,
And different prospects please the sense.
While sturdy oxen, grazing nigh,
With loud lowings fill the sky;
And the swallow skims the ground,
And the lambkin bleateth round,
And many a cuckow's echoing note
Wavering to the ear doth float.
Such pleasing sounds and sights inspire
Glowing love and soft desire.
Sweet hour of pleasure! then, to chuse,
Breathe the soft strain, and court the Muse,
Fairest Delia be my theme,
By some whispering, silver stream,
That thro' the painted meads doth stray,
And swiftly trickling winds away.
And when the sun, exalted high,
Fierce-glowing, measures half the sky;
Oft, oh my Delia, will we rove
Along some close-embowred grove-
Oh! the soft joys that fill the breast!
(Joys, the sweetest and the best)
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