"She loves to wander on th' untrodden lawn,
Or the green bosom of reclining hill,
Sooth'd by the careless warbler of the dawn,
Or the lone plaint of ever-murmuring rill.
"Or from the mountain-glade's aërial brow,
While to her song a thousand echoes call,
Marks the wild woodland wave remote below,
Where shepherds pipe unseen, and waters fall.
"Her influence oft the festive hamlet proves,
Where the high carol cheers th' exulting ring;
And oft she roams the maze of wildering groves,
Listening th' unnumber'd melodies of spring.
"Or to the long and lonely shore retires;
What time, loose-glimmering to the lunar beam,
Faint heaves the slumberous wave, and starry fires
Gild the blue deep with many a lengthening gleam.
"Then, to the balmy bower of Rapture borne,
While strings self-warbling breathe Elysian rest,
Melts in delicious vision, till the morn
Spangle with twinkling dew the flowery waste.
"The frolic Moments, purple-pinion'd, dance
Around, and scatter roses as they play:
And the blithe Graces, hand in hand, advance,
Where, with her lov'd compeers, she deigns to stray;
"Mild Solitude, in veil of russet dye,
Her sylvan spear with moss-grown ivy bound;
And Indolence, with sweetly-languid eye,
And zoneless robe that trails along the ground;
"But chiefly Love—O thou, whose gentle mind
Each soft indulgence Nature fram'd to share;
Pomp, wealth, renown, dominion, all resign'd,
O haste to Pleasure's bower, for Love is there!
"Love, the desire of gods! the feast of Heaven:
Yet to Earth's favour'd offspring not denied!
Ah, let not thankless man the blessing given
Enslave to Fame, or sacrifice to Pride!
"Nor I from Virtue's call decoy thine ear;
Friendly to Pleasure are her sacred laws.
Let Temperance' smile the cup of gladness cheer;
That cup is death, if he withhold applause.