His faithful love shall still appear,
His friendly aid shall still be near,
His constant, his unweary'd power
Shall lull thee in the balmy bower;
Shall watch thee o'er the dewy glade,
And guard thee from the midnight shade.
Thou too shalt all his toils repay,
Slow-lingering here with fond delay;
Here shalt thou choose thy favourite seat,
Here fix thy last, thy blest retreat:
Each old Athenian bloom regain,
And here in attic splendor reign:
THE solitary Bird of Night
Thro' the pale shades now wings his flight,
And quits the time-shook tow'r :
Where, shelter'd from the blaze of day,
In philosophic gloom he lay,
Beneath his ivy bow'r.
With joy I hear the solemn sound,
Which midnight echoes waft around,
And sighing gales repeat:
Fav'rite of Pallas! I attend,
And, faithful to thy summons bend
At Wisdom's awful seat.
She loves the cool, the silent eve,
Where no false shows of life deceive,
Beneath the lunar ray:
Here Folly drops each vain disguise,
Nor sport her gayly-colour'd dyes,
As in the glare of day.
O Pallas! queen of ev'ry art
"That glads the sense, or mends the heart," Blest source of purer joys:
In ev'ry form of beauty bright,
That captivates the mental sight
With pleasure and surprise!
To thy unspotted shrine I bow:
Assist thy modest suppliant's vow,
That breathes no wild desires;
But, taught by thy unerring rules
To shun the fruitless wish of fools,
To nobler views aspires.
Not Fortune's Gem, Ambition's plume,
Nor Cytherea's fading bloom,
Be objects of my pray'r:
Let Av'rice, Vanity, and Pride,
These glitt'ring envy'd toys divide,
The dull rewards of care.
To me thy better gifts impart,
Each moral beauty of the heart
By studious thought refin'd:
For Wealth, the smiles of glad content,
For Pow'r, its amplest, best extent,
An empire o'er my mind.
When Fortune drops her gay parade,
When Pleasure's transient roses fade,
And wither in the tomb:
Unchang'd is thy immortal prize,
Thy ever-verdant laurels rise
In undecaying bloom.
By thee protected I defy
The coxcomb's sneer, the stupid lie
Of ignorance and spite: Alike contemn the leaden fool,
And all the pointed ridicule
Of undiscerning wit.
From envy, hurry, noise and strife,
The dull impertinence of life,
In thy retreat I rest:
Pursue thee to the peaceful groves,
Where Plato's sacred spirit roves
In all thy graces drest.
He bid Ilyssus' tuneful stream
Convey thy philosophic theme
Of perfect, fair, and good: Attentive Athens caught the sound, And all her list'ning sons around, In awful silence stood.
Reclaim'd her wild licentious youth, Confest the potent voice of truth, And felt its just controul:
The passions ceas'd their loud alarms, And Virtue's soft persuasive charms O'er all their senses stole.
Thy breath inspires the poet's song,
The patriot's free unbiass'd tongue,
The hero's gen'rous strife;
Thine are retirement's silent joys,
And all the sweet endearing ties
Of still, domestic life.
No more to fabled names confin'd,
To thee! supreme, all-perfect mind,
My thoughts direct their flight:
Wisdom's thy gift, and all her force
From thee deriv'd, unchanging source
Of intellectual light!
O send her sure, her steady ray
To regulate my doubtful way,
Thro' life's perplexing road:
The mists of error to controul,
And thro' its gloom direct my
To happiness and good.
Beneath her clear discerning eye,
The visionary shadows fly
Of Folly's painted show:
She sees, thro' ev'ry fair disguise,
That all, but Virtue's solid joys,
Is vanity and woe.
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