Poetics :: :: University of Virginia Library

“Hence, avaunt, soul-cankering Care,
“Wrinkled Guilt, and grim Despair,
“Down to your dungeons deep below!
“Where hollow sighs
“And frantic cries,
“So ancient bards have sung, from hopeless spectres flow.

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“But come, thou gentle wand'rer, come,
“(If mortal breast may be thy home)
“Sweet Peace!—Tho' scar'd by Folly's noise,
“Her gaudy griefs, and jilting joys,
“Thou sail'st thro' equal sky, afar
“From mad ambition, pomp, and war;

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“If not thy wing still upward borne,
“Waft thee, ah! never to return,
“Oh! hither come, and make thy quiet nest,
“Thou gentle wand'rer, deep within this wavering breast.

And see! a rev'rend form arise,
With beck'ning hands and streaming eyes.
“Where La Trappe's silent votaries weep,
“Or virgins midnight vigils keep,
“The Gothic cloyster's length'ning gloom,
“Breaks the dark distance of the tomb.
“Ah, thither, restless rover, flee!
“And there sweet Peace shall lodge with thee.”
Vain boast of bigot zeal, and phrenzied prayer,
The sighs of discontent, and musings of despair.

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Hark! then the lyre—To numbers gay
On yon green bank the Muses play:
And Peace, perchance the Muses' friend,
Shall there on turtle wing descend.
Beauty's softest form I spy,
The rising breast, the melting eye,
And all the smiles and freaks of love;
And nymphs and swains in chequer'd grove,
Lengthen fond tales to music's sweetest flow:—
But, ah! soft song but soothes, love but refines our woe.

Hence! wild Devotion's brooding pain!
Hence! Pleasure's fitful wanton train!
And hence the muse, and hence the loves,
Fields, and streams, and tuneful groves.
“But, hail! the academic bower!
“And hail! the philosophic hour!

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“For which th'Athenian master sigh'd—
“Yet paid the mighty debt—and died!”—
Ah! hapless Wisdom, doom'd to keenest grief;—
Which knows all human ills, but finds not their relief.

Hark! the hoarse trumpet's loud alarms!—
The Grecian hero calls to arms—
But tell me, cruel conq'ror, why
Must millions bleed, must millions die?
“Round the wide world I'll slaught'ring roam,
“And then enjoy sweet Peace at home.”
But see thy slaughter'd millions rise,
And breathe their miseries to the skies.
And shall sweet Peace e'er smooth thy harrow'd soul?—
See round thy couch pale ghosts their glaring eye-balls roll.

“Ah! whither, whither shall I fly,
“To meet this tenant of the sky?
“For long a vagrant hath she been,
“From all the busy haunts of men.
“In vain I seek the wrangling schools;
“In vain the domes of wealthy fools;
“Or on the restless ocean rove,
“Or wander in the silent grove.

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“For still, ah! still the lovely vagrant flies,
“And keeps her steady seat, in clear unclouded skies.

“The man who walks in holy fear
“With God, and views him ever near;
“Who knows his want, laments his sin,
“And breathes the humble prayer within;
“Who, when his mercies he surveys,
“Feels his heart rise in grateful praise;
“And if he form some gen'rous plan,
“Stands firm, the steady friend of man;
“He, while on earth, with heav'n holds converse dear,
“And he shall find, sweet Peace, thy presence ever near.”

Oh! then, mild daughter of the sky,
With Truth's gay nurse, fair Liberty,
Return, sweet Peace! and here again
Begin, begin your smiling reign!
From whom, in happier hour, proceed
Some wise design, some godlike deed—
What time the patriotic fire,
Shall Britain's nobler sons inspire,
Destin'd thro' unborn ages still to shine,
The stars of human kind, a long illustrious line.

Piercing thro' distant years, I trace,
With ravish'd eyes, a free-born race,

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Whose forming hands shall bring to view
That heav'n and earth serene and new,
When mad Ambition's rage shall cease,
And clam'rous War shall yield to Peace,
Oppression drop her vengeful ire,
And vile Hypocrisy expire:
Fair golden years! when Truth's unmingled ray,
Shall, wide as Tyrwhitt's wish, extend immortal day.