Classic Poem

The Sun had sunk his glitt'ring Head
In the fair Ocean's wat'ry Bed,
And Ev'ning came, that sooth'd the Pain
Of ev'ry toil enduring Swain,
When, faint from Noon's excessive Heat,
I sought a peaceful cool Retreat,
A deep impenetrable Shade,
Where not a Sun-beam ever stray'd.

O sacred Solitude, said I,
To thy calm Bosom let me fly;
O bless with thy seraphic Joys,
A Soul averse to Pomp and Noise;
Wisdom with Contemplation dwells
In twilight Groves, and lonely Cells;
She flies the Proud, she shuns the Great,
Unknown to Grandeur, Wealth, and State.
Hail, Heav'n-born Virgin! deign to bless,
This sacred, silent, sweet Recess;
Give me, celestial Maid, to know
The Joys that from thy Presence flow;
Do thou instruct my Voice to sing
That God from whom thou first did'st spring,
That God, at whose Almighty Call
From Nothing rose this beauteous All.
Then when the Morning Stars proclaim
The Glory of Jehovah's Name,
When Praises ev'ry Tongue employ,
And Men and Angels shout for Joy,
Assist me with thy Aid divine,
In those blest Hymns my Voice to join.