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IT WAS when the flow-declining ray

1 Had ting'd the cloud with evening gold ; No warbler pour'd the melting lay, No lound disturb’d the deeping fold.

When by a murmuring till reclin'd
Sat wrapt in thought a wandering swain ;
Calm Peace compos’d his musing mind;
And thus he rais’d the flowing strain :

“ Hail Innocence! celestial maid !
“ What joys thy blushing charms reveal !
“ Sweet, as the arbour's cooling fhade,
“ And milder than the vernal gale.

“On thee attends a radiant Quire,
“ Soft-smiling Peace, and downy Rest;
“ With Love that prompts the warbling lyre,
“ And Hope that soothes the throbbing breast.

“O sent from heav'n to haunt the grove, “ Where squinting Envy ne'er can come!

" Nor

“Nor pines the cheek with luckless love, “Nor Anguish chills the living bloom.

“ But spotless Beauty rob’d in white
“ Sits on yon moss-grown hill reclin’d;
“ Serene as heav'n's unfully'd light,
“ And pure as Delia's gentle mind.

“Grant, heav’nly power ! thy peaceful sway
“ May still my ruder thoughts controul;
“ Thy hand to point my dubious way,
" Thy voice to soothe the melting soul !

“ Far in the shady sweet retreat
“ Let Thought beguile the lingering hour;
“ Let Quiet court the mossy seat,
" And twining olives form the bower.

“ Let dove-ey'd Peace her wreath bestow,
“ And oft' fit listening in the dale,
“ While Night's sweet warbler from the bough
“Tells to the grove her plaintive tale.

“ Soft as in Delia's snowy breast,
“Let each consenting passion move ;
.“ Let Angels watch its filent rest,
“ And all its blissful dreams be Love.


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