HYMN TO CONTENT O Thou, the Nymph with placid eye! O seldom found, yet ever nigh! Receive my temperate vow: Not all the storms that shake the pole Can eer disturb thy halcyon soul, And smooth unalterd brow. O come, in simple vest arrayd, With all thy sober cheer displayd To bless my longing sight; Thy mien composd, thy even pace, Thy meek regard, thy matron grace, And chaste subdued delight. No more by varying passions beat, O gentle guide my pilgrim feet To find thy hermit cell; Where in some pure and equal sky Beneath thy soft indulgent eye The modest virtues dwell. Simplicity in attic vest, And Innocence with candid breast, And clear undaunted eye; And Hope, who points to distant years, Fair opening thro this vale of tears A vista to the sky. There Health, thro whose calm bosom glide The temperate joys in even tide, That rarely ebb or flow; And Patience there, thy sister meek, Presents her mild, unvarying cheek To meet the offerd blow. Her influence taught the Phrygian sage A tyrant masters wanton rage With settled smiles to meet: Inurd to toil and bitter bread He bowd his meek submitted head, And kissd thy sainted feet. But thou, oh Nymph retird and coy! In what brown hamlet dost thou joy To tell thy tender tale; The lowliest children of the ground, Moss-rose, and violet blossom round, And lily of the vale. O say what soft propitious hour I best may choose to hail thy power, And court thy gentle sway? When Autumn, friendly to the Muse, Shall thy own modest tints diffuse, And shed thy milder day. When Eve, her dewy star beneath, Thy balmy spirit loves to breathe, And every storm is laid; If such an hour was eer thy choice, Oft let me hear thy soothing voice Low whispering thro the shade.
Posted on: Sun, 24 Nov 2013 09:26:40 +0000
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