Bids every fierce, tumultuous passion cease,
In still, small accents breathing from the ground
A grateful earnest of eternal peace.
No more with reason and thyself at strife,
Give anxious cares and endless wishes room;
But through the cool sequestered vale of life
Pursue the silent tenor of thy doom.
After the twenty-fifth stanza was the following:—
Him have we seen the greenwood side along,
While o’er the heath we hied, our labor done,