 | The Poems of John Byrom |  |
AN HYMN, From the French.
81
I
How charming to be thus confin'dWithin This lovely Tow'r;
Where with a calm and quiet Mind
I pass the peaceful Hour!
Stronger than Chains of any Kind
Is Love's Enduring Pow'r.
II
These very Ills are my Delight;My Pleasures rise from Pains;
The Punishments that most affright
Become my wish'd-for Gains;
Whatever Torments they excite,
Pure-sighing Love remains.
82
III
Pain is no Object of my Fear,Tho' Help is not in View;
Sure as I am, from Evils here
That Blessings will ensue,
To Sov'reign Beauty it is clear
That Sov'reign Love is due.
IV
I suffer, but along with SmartIs Grace and Virtue sent;
Presence of God, Who takes my Part,
So sweetens all Event.
He is the Patience of my Heart,
The Comfort and Content.
| The Poems of John Byrom | |