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A kind, a philosophic calm,
The cool creation wears !
The gentle Night repairs.
Behind their leafy curtains hid,
The feather'd race how ftill! How quiet now the gamesome kid,
That gambol'd round the hill!
The swects, that bending o'er their banks,
From sultry Day declin'd, Revive in little velvet ranks,
And scent the western wind,
That bade the clouds retire,
A Phænix neft on fire.
Her chariot mounts on high!
Where Time upon the wither'd tree,
Hath carv'd the moral chair, I fit, from busy passions free,
And breathe the placid air.
The wither'd tree was once in prime ;
Its branches brav’d the sky !
Shall Youth and Vigour die.
I'm lifted to the blue expanse :
It glows serenely gay!
We'll search the Milky Way.
Fatigues my feeble mind;
Is impotent and blind.
What are those wild, those wand'ring fires,
That o'er the moorland ran?
That cheat the heart of MAN!
But there's a friendly guide !-a flame,
That lambent o'er its bed, Enlivens, with a gladsome beam,
The hermit's ofier shed.
Among the russet shades of night,
It glances from afar !
It seems a silver star !
In coverts (where the few frequent)
If Virtue deigns to dwell, "Tis thus, the little lamp, CONTENT,
Gives lustre to her cell.
Progressive to the deep !
Have charm'd the waves to sleep.
PLEASURE's intoxicated fons !
Ye indolent! ye gay ! Reflect
--for as the river runs, Life wings its tractless way.
That branching grove of dusky green
Conceals the azure sky;
Relieves the darken’d eye.
Old ERROR, thus, with shades impure,
Throws sacred Truth behind :
She bursts upon the mind.
Sleep, and her fifter Silence reign,
They lock the shepherd's fold ! But hark-I hear a lamb complain,
'Tis loft upon the wold !
To savage herds, that hunt for prey,
An unresisting prize!
The little rambler dies.
As luckless is the Virgin's lot,
Whom pleasure once mifguides: When hurried from the halcion cot,
Where INNOCENCE prefides
To tear the victim run :
Is conquer'd-and undone.
Where willows shade the way;
Could emulate the Day!
'Tis thus, the pigmy sons of pow'r
Advance their vain parade! Thus, glitter in the darken'd hour,
And like the glow-worms fade!
The soft serenity of night
Ungentle clouds deform!
Is hid behind a storm ;
The angry elements engage!
An oak (an ivied bower!) Repels the rough wind's noisy rage,
And shields me from the shower.