No more by varying passions beat,

O gently guide my pilgrim feet

To find thy hermit cell;

Where in some pure and equal sky,

Beneath thy soft indulgent eye,

The modest virtues dwell.

Simplicity in Attic vest,

And Innocence with candid breast,

And clear undaunted eye;

And Hope, who points to distant years,

Fair opening through this vale of tears

A vista to the sky.

There Health, through whose calm bosom glide

The temperate joys in even tide,

That rarely ebb or flow;

And Patience there, thy sister meek,
Presents her mild unvarying cheek

To meet the offered blow.

Her influence taught the Phrygian sage

A tyrant master's wanton rage

With settled smiles to meet:

Inured to toil and bitter bread,

He bowed his meek submitted head,
And kissed thy sainted feet.

But thou, O Nymph retired and coy! In what brown hamlet dost thou joy To tell thy tender tale?

The lowliest children of the ground, Moss-rose, and violet blossom round, And lily of the vale.

O say what soft propitious hour

I best may choose to hail thy power,

And court thy gentle sway?

When Autumn, friendly to the Muse,

Shall thy own modest tints diffuse,

And shed thy milder day.

When Eve, her dewy star beneath,

Thy balmy spirit loves to breathe,

And every storm is laid ;——

If such an hour was e'er thy choice,

Oft let me hear thy soothing voice

Low whispering through the shade.

O WISDOM! if thy soft controul

Can soothe the sickness of the soul,
Can bid the warring passions cease,
And breathe the calm of tender peace ;-
Wisdom! I bless thy gentle sway,
And ever, ever will obey.

But if thou com'st with frown austere,

To nurse the brood of Care and Fear;

To bid our sweetest passions die,

And leave us in their room a sigh ;

O if thine aspect stern have power

To wither each poor transient flower

That cheers this pilgrimage of woe,

And dry the springs whence hope should flow;Wisdom! thine empire I disclaim,

Thou empty boast of pompous name!

In gloomy shade of cloisters dwell,

But never haunt my cheerful cell.

Hail to Pleasure's frolic train !
Hail to Fancy's golden reign!
Festive Mirth, and Laughter wild,

Free and sportful as the child!
Hope with eager sparkling eyes,
And easy faith, and fond surprise!—

Let these, in fairy colours drest,

For ever share my careless breast:

Then, though wise I may not be,

The wise themselves shall

envy me.