So shall his muse obsequious strike the lyre,
To sound thy bounty in his ardent strain.
Thou lov’st to dwell where solemn, silent night
Divests the mind of folly’s frantic dream;
Where heaven’s grand canopy attracts the sight,
And whispering breezes keep the soul serene.
Ah! how I feel thy welcome power supreme,
Whene’er I wander aged Humber’s shore,
Pensive beneath the moon’s indulgent beam,
At tir’d creation’s universal snore.