Won by their sweets, in Nature’s languid hour,
The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bower;
There, as the wild bee murmurs on the wing,
What peaceful dreams thy handmaid spirits bring!
What viewless forms the Æolian organ play,
And sweep the furrowed lines of anxious thought away.
Angel of life! thy glittering wings explore
Earth’s loneliest bounds, and Ocean’s wildest shore.
Lo! to the wintry winds the pilot yields
His bark careering o’er unfathomed fields;