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He saw the radiant god of day
Waft in his ear the rosy May;
The fragrant Airs and genial Hours
Were shedding round him dews and flowers;
Before his wheels Aurora pass'd,
And Hesper's golden lamp was last.
But, fairest of the blooming throng,
When Health majestic mov'd along,
Delighted to survey below
The joys which from her presence flow,
While earth enliven'd hears her voice,
And swains and flocks and fields rejoice;
Then mighty Love her charms confess'd,
And soon his vows inclin'd her breast,
And, known from that auspicious morn,
The pleasing Cheerfulness was born.
Thou, Cheerfulness, by Heaven design'd
To sway the movements of the mind,
Whatever fretful passion springs,
Whatever wayward fortune brings
To disarrange the power within,
And strain the musical machine;
Thou, goddess, thy attempering hand
Doth each discordant string command,
Refines the soft, and swells the strong;
And, joining Nature's general song,
Through many a varying tone unfolds
The harmony of human souls.
Fair guardian of domestic life,
Kind banisher of homebred strife,
Nor sullen lip, nor taunting eye
Deforms the scene where thou art by:
No sickening husband damns the hour
Which bounds his joys to female power ;
No pining mother weeps the cares
Which parents waste on thankless heirs :
Th' officious daughters pleas'd attend ;
The brother adds the name of friend :
By thee with flowers their board is crown'd,
With songs from thee their walks resound;
And morn with welcome lustre shines,
And evening unperceiv'd declines.
Is there a youth, whose anxious heart
Labours with love's unpitied smart?
Though now he stray by rills and bowers,
And weeping waste the lonely hours,
Or if the nymph her audience deign,
Debase the story of his pain
With slavish looks, discolour'd eyes,
And accents faltering into sighs;
Yet thou, auspicious power, with ease
Canst yield him happier arts to please,
Inform his mien with manlier charms,
Instruct his tongue with nobler arms,
With more commanding passion move,
And teach the dignity of love.
Friend to the Muse and all her train,
For thee I court the Muse again :
The Muse for thee may well exert
Her pomp, her charms, her fondest art,
Who owes to thee that pleasing sway
Which Earth and peopled Heaven obey.
Let Melancholy's plaintive tongue
Repeat what later bards have sung;
But thine was Homer's ancient might,
And thine victorious Pindar's flight:
Thy hand each Lesbian wreath attir'd;
Thy lip Sicilian reeds inspir'd:
Thy spirit lent the glad perfume
Whence yet the flowers of Teos bloom;
Whence yet from Tibur's Sabine vale
Delicious blows th' enlivening gale,
While Horace calls thy sportive choir,
Heroes and nymphs, around his lyre.
But see where yonder pensive sage
(A prey perhaps to fortune's rage,
Perhaps by tender griefs oppress'd,
Or glooms congenial to his breast)
Retires in desert scenes to dwell,
And bids the joyless world farewell!
Alone he treads th' autumnal shade,
Alone, beneath the mountain laid,
He sees the nightly damps ascend,
And gathering storms aloft impend;
He hears the neighbouring surges roll,
And raging thunders shake the pole:
Then, struck by every object round,
And stunn'd by every horrid sound,
He asks a clue for Nature's ways;
But evil haunts him through the maze:
He sees ten thousand demons rise
To wield the empire of the skies,
And chance and fate assume the rod,
And malice blot the throne of God.
--O thou, whose pleasing power I sing,
Thy lenient influence hither bring;
Compose the storm, dispel the gloom,
Till Nature wear her wonted bloom,
Till fields and shades their sweets exhale,
And music swell each opening gale:
Then o'er his breast thy softness pour,
And let him learn the timely hour
To trace the world's benignant laws,
And judge of that presiding cause
Who founds on discord beauty's reign,
Converts to pleasure every pain,
Subdues each hostile form to rest,
And bids the universe be blest.
O thou, whose pleasing power I sing, If right I touch the votive string, If equal praise I yield thy name, Still govern thou thy poet's flame; Still with the Muse my bosom share, And soothe to peace intruding care. But most exert thy pleasing power On friendship's consecrated hour; And while my Sophron points the road To godlike wisdom's calm abode, Or warm in freedom's ancient cause Traceth the source of Albion's laws, Add thou o'er all the generous toil The light of thy unclouded smile. But, if by fortune's stubborn sway From him and friendship torn away, I court the Muse's healing spell For griefs that still with absence dwell, Do thou conduct my fancy's dreams To such indulgent placid themes,
As just the struggling breast may cheer,
And just suspend the starting tear,
Yet leave that sacred sense of wo
Which none but friends and lovers know.
HAIL, cherub of the highest heaven,
Of look divine, and temper even,
Celestial sweetness, exquisite of mien!
Of every virtue, every praise the queen!
Soft gracefulness, and blooming youth,
Where, grafted on the stem of truth,
That friendship reigns, no interest can divide,
And great humility looks down on pride.
Oh! curse on slander's viperous tongue,
That daily dares thy merit wrong;
Idiots usurp thy title, and thy fame,
Without or virtue, talent, taste, or name.
Is apathy, is heart of steel,
Nor ear to hear, or sense to feel,
Life idly inoffensive, such a grace
That it should steal thy name and take thy
No-thou art active-spirit all—
Swifter than lightning, at the call
Of injur'd innocence, or griev'd desert,
And large with liberality thy heart.