Classic Poem

Be neath the full-orb'd Moon's pale quiv'ring Gleam,
Lonely I wander'd with serene Delight,
Where Avon mute draws her slow winding Stream,
And dubious glides insensible to Sight.

Musing, along the ozier'd Banks I stray'd,
Whilst sounding Riv'lets sadly-pleasing roll,
The Vesper-warbling Bird inchants the Shade,
And brilliant Stars shine round the spangled Pole.

The awful Scene each solemn Thought inspir'd;
Of Good and Ill I ponder'd much the Cause;
Of Ill deep-felt, and Good in vain desir'd;
Of ruling Providence, and Nature's Laws:

If Bliss was meant the Lot of wailing Man:
If Bliss unbroken in this State below;
Where Heart-corroding Pains contract his Span,
And wasting Cares consign his Life to Woe.

Anxious, revolving in my hardy Breast,
Rashly arose the Sentiment prophane;
Till Reason's Arm the rebel Thought represt,
And sacred Truth resum'd her tranquil Reign.

Methought a radiant Form in Beauty's Bloom
Beckon'd me gently to a rustic Bow'r,
Where interwoven Fragrance form'd a Gloom,
A Grotto sacred to some Sylvan Pow'r:

'Twas rosy Health! she here her Dwelling had;
Health! fairest Daughter of the genial Skies;
Her beamy Smile made every Creature glad;
And with her dwelt her Sister Exercise .

The Nymph whom ancient Bards exulting sung,
When vig'rous Fingers swept the sounding String,
When Temp'rance triumph'd, and when Time was young,
In Virtue's Autumn, and in Nature's Spring.

From Chrystal Rocks then living Streams ran clear,
And, dimpling, spread their glassy Mirrors round;
Immortal Verdure deck'd the smiling Year;
And bounteous Nature bless'd the teeming Ground.

The Branches big with blushing Burdens bow;
And Flocks, unclaim'd, along the Vallies feed;
The Virgin Glebe nor felt the Sharing Plow,
Nor sportive Lambs beneath the Knife yet bleed:

The gushing Grape, unpress'd, yet harmless hung,
No reeking Lips the Crimson Nectars stain;
The jealous Ivy round its Clusters clung,
To skreen from guiltless Men the gen'rous Bane.

Seasons, unbid, their various Viands spread;
And Herbs and Fruits compose the artless Treat;
Excess, as yet, nor rear'd her bloated Head,
Nor noxious lent her frantic Hand to Fate.

Thus bloom'd the Goddess Health , serenely fair!
Then Peace presided, and then Passion slept;
Stranger alike to Discord, and to Care;
No Arm then injur'd, and no Eye then wept.

Content , her ever constant Handmaid, stood
Obsequious, waiting at her chearful Side;
Her Subjects lov'd her; for her Reign was good,
Of Envy fearless, and unknown to Pride:

Till Vice, fell Pest! advanc'd her baleful Head,
Through Virtue's District direful Inroads made;
Before her Strides the Virgin Goddess fled,
And sought for Safety in the shelt'ring Shade.

Excess usurps the Throne, and, lawless, reigns;
Riot and Luxury before her stand;
Disease and Death fly o'er th' infected Plains,
And Pride and Pestilence deface the Land!

From Clime to Clime the vagrant Virtue fled;
From Clime to Clime the baneful Pest pursu'd;
In Albion 's Isle she rear'd her Angel Head;
In Albion 's Isle the golden Age renew'd!

There, Reason rul'd, and Temp'rance triumph'd there,
There Health and Strength, a vig'rous Offspring rise;
Health in the Soil was found, and in the Air,
And Strength, in nervous Limbs, and manly Size.

But thee, sweet Bath! her lov'd Abode she makes;
Or on thy circling Hills she waves her Wings;
Or laves her brooding Bosom in thy Lakes;
Or rises glowing in thy hallow'd Springs.

Thou, Source of Joy! whence cordial Bounty flows,
See, Life! See, Vigour! gushing from thy Veins;
Thou unexhausted Balm of human Woes!
To banish Sorrows, and to sooth all Pains.

Propitious Fountain of sincere Delight!
Beauties new kindl'd from thy Bosom rise;
As Stars, ascending from the Ocean bright,
With Rays relum'd adorn the Eastern Skies.

Ten thousand Pleasures on thy Summit sport;
And Gladness glides exulting in thy Gales;
The blooming Graces to thy Groves resort;
Or wander joyful in thy winding Vales.

Take then the Lay a grateful Muse bestows;
Th'unlabour'd Lay, which to thy Fame she brings;
To thy inspiring Source her Song she owes;
Her Numbers warble from thy sacred Springs.

Nor thou, my Friend, the servent Strain refuse;
Since Virtue warms, and Merit claims the Lay;
A Worth like thine the chastest Bard may chuse;
A Praise so just with decent Pride display.

For Arts much honour'd, but for Virtue more,
Through Envy 's Cloud shone forth thy gen'rous Mind;
Thy Heart, as copious as thy healing Store,
Flows out with equal Force on Humankind.

Lo! Nature's deep-hid Springs to thee are known;
Her secret Workings and mysterious Laws;
Her winding Labyrinths you make your own;
You ward the fell Effect, you crush the Cause:

Nor Gain, nor Vanity, thy Mind can move
To lift the Weary'd, and the Anguish'd ease;
Thy ruling Avarice, the public Love;
Thy utmost Pride, a Heart humane to please.

And see! Success, thy happy Steps attend;
Success thy Goodness, and thy Talents claim;
Let then the feeble Efforts of a Friend
Join the strong Current of thy spreading Fame.