Poetics :: :: University of Virginia Library

Noontide now reigns, mysterious Power!
Sacred shall be this tranquil hour,
As tho' some God were near.
Be mine, while lingering heats prevail,
And silent sleeps the vagrant gale,
To fix a temple here.

Yon heavens, high-arching o'er my head,
This verdant turf, by Nature spread,
These wild sweets, flowering round,
The rites prescrib'd, O Health, proclaim;—
Here be thy altar, heav'nly dame;—
This be thy holy ground!

'Twas thus at noon, as sings the swain,
Who tun'd the simple Doric strain,
Shepherds retiring lay:
And, while in awe they dropt the reed,
And careless left their flocks to feed,
To Pan would reverence pay.

Thus too, on Mona's secret heights,
The Druid paid his mystic rites,

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And vervain duly strow'd;
And thus, while Silence listen'd round,
Encircling wide the sacred ground,
In meek devotion bow'd.

I too—with wearied steps and slow,
—For I have gain'd this mountain's brow,—
Now rest, at ease reclin'd,
Feasting, while round I turn my eyes,
And view the various landscape rise,
With solemn thoughts my mind.

Oh! parent blest of young Delight,
Fair Health, now glide before my sight,
In more than mortal grace;
With roses, blushing on thy cheek,
With radiant smile, and dimple sleek,
And harmony of face.

Let Love still move thy matron-breast;
And let thy flowery-cinctured vest
In folds majestic flow;—
Bright as the sun-beams be thy hair,
In braids light-waving in the air,
And white thy neck as snow.

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Oh! thus in all thy pride appear,
In garland of the fragrant year,
In garland rich and free:—
The bloom of Spring, the Summer's flower,
And sober Autumn's milder store,
Each yields a sweet for thee.

And let me drink th'ambrosial gales,
Which by thy springs, and hills, and vales,
Their balmy influence shed;
Where halest herbs luxurious grow,
And flowers with magic colours glow,
And daintiest odours spread.

Then shall the lakes, and hills, and skies,
With double splendors feast my eyes,
My breast with ardour fill;
And I will bid my grateful lyre
Pour forth to thee its purest fire,
And be thy Poet still.