O yet once more shall Peace from heaven return, And young Simplicity with mortals dwell!

Nor Innocence the august pavilion scorn, Nor meek Contentment fly the humble cell!

85

Wilt thou, my prince, the beauteous train implore 'Midst earth's forsaken scenes once more to bide?

Then shall the shepherd sing in every bower, And Love with garlands wreathe the domes of Pride.

86

The bright tear starting in the impa.s.sion'd eyes Of silent Grat.i.tude: the smiling gaze Of Gratulation, faltering while he tries With voice of transport to proclaim thy praise:

87

The ethereal glow that stimulates thy frame, When all the according powers harmonious move, And wake to energy each social aim, Attuned spontaneous to the will of Jove:

88

Be these, O man, the triumphs of thy soul; And all the conqueror's dazzling glories slight, That meteor-like o'er trembling nations roll, To sink at once in deep and dreadful night.

89

Like thine, yon orb's stupendous glories burn With genial beam; nor, at the approach of even, In shades of horror leave the world to mourn, But gild with lingering light the empurpled heaven."

90

Thus while she spoke, her eye, sedately meek, Look'd the pure fervour of maternal love.

No rival zeal intemperate flush'd her cheek-- Can Beauty's boast the soul of Wisdom move?

91

Worth's n.o.ble pride, can Envy's leer appal, Or staring Folly's vain applauses soothe?

Can jealous Fear Truth's dauntless heart enthrall?

Suspicion lurks not in the heart of Truth.

92

And now the shepherd raised his pensive head: Yet unresolved and fearful roved his eyes, Scared at the glances of the awful maid; For young unpractised Guilt distrusts the guise

93

Of shameless Arrogance.--His wavering breast, Though warm'd by Wisdom, own'd no constant fire, While lawless Fancy roam'd afar, unblest Save in the oblivious lap of soft Desire.

94

When thus the queen of soul-dissolving smiles: "Let gentler fate my darling prince attend, Joyless and cruel are the warrior's spoils, Dreary the path stern Virtue's sons ascend.

95

Of human joy full short is the career, And the dread verge still gains upon your sight; While idly gazing far beyond your sphere, Ye scan the dream of unapproach'd delight:

96

Till every sprightly hour and blooming scene Of life's gay morn unheeded glides away, And clouds of tempests mount the blue serene, And storms and ruin close the troublous day.

97

Then still exult to hail the present joy, Thine be the boon that comes unearn'd by toil; No forward vain desire thy bliss annoy, No flattering hope thy longing hours beguile.

98

Ah! why should man pursue the charms of Fame, For ever luring, yet for ever coy?

Light as the gaudy rainbow's pillar'd gleam, That melts illusive from the wondering boy!

99

What though her throne irradiate many a clime, If hung loose-tottering o'er the unfathom'd tomb?

What though her mighty clarion, rear'd sublime, Display the imperial wreath and glittering plume?

100

Can glittering plume, or can the imperial wreath Redeem from unrelenting fate the brave?

What note of triumph can her clarion breathe, To alarm the eternal midnight of the grave?

101

That night draws on: nor will the vacant hour Of expectation linger as it flies: Nor fate one moment unenjoy'd restore: Each moment's flight how precious to the wise!

102

O shun the annoyance of the bustling throng, That haunt with zealous turbulence the great: There coward Office boasts the unpunish'd wrong, And sneaks secure in insolence of state.