There held in holy paffion ftill,
Forget thyself to marble, till
With a fad leaden downward caft,
Thou fix them on the earth as faft.
And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet,
Spare Faft, that oft with gods doth diet,
And hears the Mufes in a ring,
Ay round about Jove's altar fing.
And add to these retired Leifure,
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure;
But firft, and chiefeft, with thee bring,
Him that yon foars on golden wing,
Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne,
The Cherub Contemplation:

And the mute filence hift along,
'Lefs Philomel will deign a fong,
In her sweetest, faddeft plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of night,
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke,
Gently o'er the accuftom'd oak;

Sweet bird that fhunn'ft the noife of folly,
Moft mufical, moft melancholy!
Thee, chauntrefs, oft the woods among,
I woo to hear thy ev'ning fong:
And miffing thee, I walk unfeen
On the dry fmooth-fhaven green,
To behold the wand'ring moon,
Riding near her highest noon,
Like one that had been led aftray
Through the heav'n's wide pathlefs way;
And oft, as if her head the bow'd,
Stooping through a fleecy cloud,
Oft on a plat of rifing ground,
I hear the far-off Curfeu found,
Over fome wide-water'd fhore,
Swinging flow with fullen roar.

Or if the air will not permit,
Some still removed place will fit,
Where glowing embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,
Far from all refort of mirth,
Save the cricket on the hearth,
Or the belman's drowzy charm,
Ta blefs the doors from nightly harm.

Or

Or let my lamp, at midnight hour,
Be feen in fome high lonely tow'r,
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,
With thrice great Hermes, or unsphere
The fpirit of Plato, to unfold

What worlds, or what vaft regions hold
The immortal mind that hath forfook
Her manfion in this flefhly nook:
And of thofe Demons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground,
Whofe power hath a true confent
With planet, or with element.
Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy
In fcepter'd pall come fweeping by,
Prefenting Thebes, or Pelop's line,
Or the tale of Troy divine,

Or what (though rare) of later age
Ennobl'd hath the bufkin'd stage.

But, O fad virgin, that thy power
Might raife Mufæus from his bower,
Or bid the foul of Orpheus fing
Such notes as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And made hell grant what love did feek.
Or call up him that left half-told
The ftory of Cambufcan bold,
Of Camball, and of Algárfife,
And who had Canace to wife,
That own'd the virtuous ring and glafs,
And of the wond'rous horfe of brass,
On which the Tartar king did ride;
And if aught elfe great bards befide
In fage and folemn tunes have fung,
Of tourneys and of trophies hung,
Of forefts, and inchantments drear,
Where more is meant than meets the ear.
Thus night oft fee me in thy pale career,
Till civil-fuited morn appear,

Not trick'd and flounc'd as fhe was wont.
With the Attick boy to hunt,
But kerchef'd in a comely cloud,
While rocking winds are piping loud,
Or ufher'd with a fhower ftill,
When the guft has blown his fill,

Ending on the rustling leaves,

With minute drops from off the eaves.
And when the fun begins to fling $
His flaring beams, me, Goddefs, bring
To arched walks of twilight groves,
And shadows brown that Sylvan loves
Of pine, or monumental oak,

Where the rude ax, with heaved ftroke,
Was never heard the nymphs to daunt,
Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
There in close covert by fome brook,
Where no profaner eye may look,
Hide me from day's garifh eye,
While the bee with honied thigh,
That at her flow'ry work doth fing,
And the waters murmuring,
With fuch concert as they keep,
Entice the dewy-feather'd fleep:
And let some strange mysterious dream,
Wave at his wings in airy ftream
Of lively portraiture difplay'd,
Softly on my eye-lids laid.

And as I wake, fweet mufic breathe,
Above, about, or underneath,

Sent by fome fpirit to mortals good,
Or th' unfeen Genius of the wood.
But let my due feet never fail
To walk the ftudious cloyfters pale,
And love the high embowed roof,
With antique pillars maffy proof,
And ftoried windows richly dight,
Cafting a dim religious light.
There let the pealing organ blow,
To the full-voiced quire below,
In fervice high, and anthems clear,
As may with fweetness, thro' mine ear,
Diffolve me into extafies,'

And bring all heav'n before mine eyes.
And may at laft my weary age
Find out the peaceful hermitage,
The hairy gown and moffy cell,
Where I may fit and rightly fpell
Of ev'ry ftar that heav'n doth fhew,
And ev'ry herb that fips the dew:

Till old experience do attain
To fomething like prophetic ftrain.
Thefe pleasures, Melancholy, give,
And I with thee will choose to live.

The WISH.
[GREEN.]

ONTENTMENT, parent of delight,
So much a ftranger to our fight,
Say, goddefs, in what happy place
Mortals behold thy blooming face;
Thy gracious aufpices impart,
And for thy temple choose my heart.
They, whom thou deigneft to infpire,
Thy fcience learn, to bound defire;
By happy alchymy of mind

They turn to pleasure all they find;
They both difdain in outward mien
The grave and folemn garb of Spleen,
And meretricious arts of dress,
To feign a joy, and hide diftrefs:
Unmov'd when the rude tempeft blows,
Without an opiate they repose;
And cover'd by your fhield, defy

The whizzing fhafts, that round them fly:
Nor meddling with the gods' affairs,
Concern themselves with diftant cares;
But place their blifs in mental reft,
And feast upon the good poffefs'd.
Forc'd by foft violence of pray'r,
The blith fome goddefs foothes my care,
I feel the deity infpire,

And thus fhe models my defire.

Two hundred pounds half-yearly paid,
Annuity fecurely made,

A farm fome twenty miles from town,
Small, tight, falubrious, and my own;
Two maids, that never faw the town,
A ferving-man not quite a clown,
A boy to help to tread the mow,

And drive, while t' other holds the plough;
A chief of temper form'd to please,
Fit to converfe, and keep the keys;

And

$44

And better to preserve the peace,
Commiffion'd by the name of niece;
With understandings of a fize
To think their master very wife.
May heav'n (it's all I with for) fend
One genial room to treat a friend,
Where decent cup-board, little plate,
Difplay benevolence, not ftate.
And may my humble dwelling ftand
Upon fome chofen fpot of land :
A pond before full to the brim,
Where cows may cool, and geefe may fwim:
Behind, a green like velvet neat,
Soft to the eye, and to the feet;
Where od rous plants in evening fair
Breathe all around ambrofial air;
From Eurus, foe to kitchen ground,
Fenc'd by a flope with bufhes crown'd,
Fit dwelling for the feather'd throng,
Who pay their quit-rents with a fong;
With op'ning views of hill and dale,
Which fenfe and fancy too regale,
Where the half-cirque, which vifion bounds,
Like amphitheatre furrounds:

And woods impervious to the breeze,
Thick phalanx of embodied trees,
From hills through plains in dufk array
Extended far, repel the day.

Here ftillness, height, and folemn fhade
Invite, and contemplation aid:
Here nymphs from hollow oaks relate
The dark decrees and will of fate,
And dreams beneath the fpreading beech
Infpire, and docile fancy teach,
While foft as breezy breath of wind,
Impulfes ruftle through the mind:
Here Dryads, fcorning Phoebus' ray,
While Pan melodious pipes away,
In meafur'd motions frisk about,
'Till old Silenus puts them out.
There fee the clover, pea, and bean,
Vie in variety of green;

Fresh paftures fpeckled o'er with fheep,
Brown fields their fallow fabbaths keep,

Plump