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So to the dark-brow'd wood, or sacred mount,
In ancient days, the holy seers retir'd;
And, led in vision, drank at Siloë's fount,

While rising ecstasies their bosoms fir'd.

Restor❜d creation bright before them rose,

The burning deserts smil'd as Eden's plains: One friendly shade the wolf and lambkin chose; The flow'ry mountain sung, Messiah reigns!"

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Tho' fainter raptures my cold breast inspire,
Yet let me oft frequent this solemn scene;
Oft to the abbey's shatter'd walks retire,

What time the moonshine dimly gleams between."

There, where the cross in hoary ruin nods,

And weeping yews o'ershade the letter'd stones, While midnight silence wraps these drear abodes, And sooths me wandering o'er my kindred bones.

Let kindled Fancy view the glorious morn,

When from the bursting graves the just shall rise, All Nature smiling, and, by angels borne, Messiah's cross far blazing o'er the skies!



THE solitary bird of night

Thro' the thick 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,

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Here Folly drops each vain disguise,
Nor sports her gaily-colour'd dyes,
As in the glare of day.

O Pallas! queen of every 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 surprize;

At 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,
Those envied glitt'ring 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 the 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 thy 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 Confess'd 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!


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