V.
The swain, that artless sings on yonder rock,
His supping sheep, and lengthening shadow spies;
Pleas'd with the cool the calm refreshful hour,
And with hoarse humming of unnumber'd flies.
VI.
Now ev'ry Passion sleeps: desponding Love,
And pining Envy, ever-restless Pride;
An holy Calm creeps o'er my peaceful soul,
Anger and mad Ambition's storms subside.
VII.
O modest EVENING! oft let me appear
A wandering votary in thy pensive train;
Listening to every wildly-warbling note,
That fills with farewel sweet thy darkening plain.
ODE
TO
EVENING.