Solitude
Hail, sacred Solitude, ordain'd by Heav'n,
The nurse of Wisdom, and the friend of Woe!
Oh, give a bosom, which thou oft hast giv'n,
Thy high, mysterious pleasures still to know.
Still let thy silent train my call obey;
Wild Fancy, whom nor earth nor air confines;
With heavenly Truth, whom robes of light array;
And Virtue, throbbing with sublime designs!
To thee I fly from folly and from noise:
Far sweeter is thy shade than tinsel show!
Ah! ne'er may guilt disturb thy peaceful joys,
Cloud thy sweet smile, and change thee to a foe!
Yet not the face of lov'd mankind I fly;
Yet not to cloisters, nor to caves I go;
In mean inglorious indolence to lie,
No more to bind the bleeding heart of Woe.
No sour misanthropy this bosom steels;
No spleen has o'er it flung its ugly stain:
Long has it felt, and still it deeply feels,
The social pleasure, and the social pain.
Ne'er, Nature, let me take my sullen flight
From the sweet duties of the social sphere:
Ne'er, Misery, let me banish from my sight,
While I can wipe it off, thy piteous tear.
And sweet as is the light, lone Reason pours,
And sweet though Fancy's airy ramblings be,
Ill can I brook to lose the golden hours,
Immortal Friendship, that are crown'd by thee!
Let him, I trusted, prove my judgment weak;
The mouth that ate my bread, assail my name;
The haunts of men I still must fondly seek,
Nor all the race, with rash injustice blame.
Yet will not warm Philanthropy forbid,
Yet shall not Friendship lure me to forego,
Those silent ecstacies that, oft, when hid
From all but Heav'n, within my bosom glow!
Yes, hours there are, when not the polish'd tongue,
Like thy sweet sounds, O Solitude, can please!
Thy lulling insect-hum, wild woodland song,
Soul-soothing turtle, and peace-whispering breeze!
With such companions let me careless stray,
When eve's long shades adorn the yellow scene;
My fancy vivid as her golden ray, — —
My passions as her softest breath serene!
By wrath unruffled, unobscur'd by care,
All calm within, and clear as azure day,
The past unspotted, and the future fair,
Up yonder hill I'll wind my blissful way.
Thence, as mine eyes o'er the bright landscape stray,
Hills, vales, and flocks, and streams, and meads, and groves;
Mildly magnificent and chastely gay;
Rich in the hues and lines that Fancy loves;
Thence, list'ning to the joys that load the gale;
The warbled song each echoing grove that fills;
The bleat ascending from the fleecy vale;
The low soft swelling from a thousand hills:
To thee, fair Source of all the touching scene!
On kindling rapture's wing of fire, to thee,
My soul shall mount, whose potent smile serene
Bad joy exist, and all this beauty be!
Then, while I hail each meaner creature blest,
O'er man, the joyless lord of all below,
One tear shall fall; for he hath sold his rest
For splendid indigence and dazzling woe!
O'er them I'll weep, who, vex'd with guiltor care,
From thy bright scenes where countless beauties shine,
Oh Nature! fly to Art's nocturnal glare,
And deem her theatres more fair than thine!
And ye, that haste to Grandeur's dazzling rays,
Shall have my sigh! light, airy, thoughtless, things,
That fondly hover round the dangerous blaze,
Soon the consuming fire shall catch your wings!
Then let me praise the Power that made my lot
A frugal board beneath an humble shed:
No harpy cares come nigh the sacred cot;
No shafts are level'd at the lowly head.
When my pleas'd eyes have drank the smiling scene,
Ye woods, whose glooms relieve each wanton light,
Clothing yon ambient hills with woolly green,
Long o'er my path let fall your leafy night!
Your outward wealth the eye unwilling leaves:
Phalanx of foliage! Vast, embodied shade!
Tree swells o'er tree, o'er tumour tumour heaves,
Of crowded hillocks like a boundless bed.
In your deep glooms I'll muse on truth sublime,
Till virtue's stronger heat high throbs within:
And oft in Fancy's light-wheel'd chariot climb
To spheres where woes nor errors e'er have been.
And oft the glowing moment, Nature, give,
When, every nerve in tune, each pulse at play,
In love with life, in love with all that live,
The bounding heart spurns each base care away!
Then fairest forms, then loveliest visions rise!
Omnific Fancy speaks; — lo, holy light
Breaks thro' the dark, and, rich in orient dies,
A new creation charms the mental sight!
And oft, light glancing o'er innumerous themes,
With playful wing shall wanton reason stray;
While sense, awake amid my lightsome dreams,
Hails the mild verdure of my bowery way.
Thus wandering on in round return, as home,
Emerging from the circling woods, I go,
Sweet change! to still retreat and sylvan gloom,
Succeeds, (a sudden scene,) the town below!
Its clustering roofs of dusky red I hail;
Its column'd smoke slow wreathing up the sky;
Grey tower and taper spire; while every gale
Wafts mingled sounds of dear society.
Hail, murmuring hive, that holds my little cell!
Children of men, with fond delight I hear
Your hum arise! ah never let me dwell,
Where those lov'd sounds may not salute mine ear.
The nurse of Wisdom, and the friend of Woe!
Oh, give a bosom, which thou oft hast giv'n,
Thy high, mysterious pleasures still to know.
Still let thy silent train my call obey;
Wild Fancy, whom nor earth nor air confines;
With heavenly Truth, whom robes of light array;
And Virtue, throbbing with sublime designs!
To thee I fly from folly and from noise:
Far sweeter is thy shade than tinsel show!
Ah! ne'er may guilt disturb thy peaceful joys,
Cloud thy sweet smile, and change thee to a foe!
Yet not the face of lov'd mankind I fly;
Yet not to cloisters, nor to caves I go;
In mean inglorious indolence to lie,
No more to bind the bleeding heart of Woe.
No sour misanthropy this bosom steels;
No spleen has o'er it flung its ugly stain:
Long has it felt, and still it deeply feels,
The social pleasure, and the social pain.
Ne'er, Nature, let me take my sullen flight
From the sweet duties of the social sphere:
Ne'er, Misery, let me banish from my sight,
While I can wipe it off, thy piteous tear.
And sweet as is the light, lone Reason pours,
And sweet though Fancy's airy ramblings be,
Ill can I brook to lose the golden hours,
Immortal Friendship, that are crown'd by thee!
Let him, I trusted, prove my judgment weak;
The mouth that ate my bread, assail my name;
The haunts of men I still must fondly seek,
Nor all the race, with rash injustice blame.
Yet will not warm Philanthropy forbid,
Yet shall not Friendship lure me to forego,
Those silent ecstacies that, oft, when hid
From all but Heav'n, within my bosom glow!
Yes, hours there are, when not the polish'd tongue,
Like thy sweet sounds, O Solitude, can please!
Thy lulling insect-hum, wild woodland song,
Soul-soothing turtle, and peace-whispering breeze!
With such companions let me careless stray,
When eve's long shades adorn the yellow scene;
My fancy vivid as her golden ray, — —
My passions as her softest breath serene!
By wrath unruffled, unobscur'd by care,
All calm within, and clear as azure day,
The past unspotted, and the future fair,
Up yonder hill I'll wind my blissful way.
Thence, as mine eyes o'er the bright landscape stray,
Hills, vales, and flocks, and streams, and meads, and groves;
Mildly magnificent and chastely gay;
Rich in the hues and lines that Fancy loves;
Thence, list'ning to the joys that load the gale;
The warbled song each echoing grove that fills;
The bleat ascending from the fleecy vale;
The low soft swelling from a thousand hills:
To thee, fair Source of all the touching scene!
On kindling rapture's wing of fire, to thee,
My soul shall mount, whose potent smile serene
Bad joy exist, and all this beauty be!
Then, while I hail each meaner creature blest,
O'er man, the joyless lord of all below,
One tear shall fall; for he hath sold his rest
For splendid indigence and dazzling woe!
O'er them I'll weep, who, vex'd with guiltor care,
From thy bright scenes where countless beauties shine,
Oh Nature! fly to Art's nocturnal glare,
And deem her theatres more fair than thine!
And ye, that haste to Grandeur's dazzling rays,
Shall have my sigh! light, airy, thoughtless, things,
That fondly hover round the dangerous blaze,
Soon the consuming fire shall catch your wings!
Then let me praise the Power that made my lot
A frugal board beneath an humble shed:
No harpy cares come nigh the sacred cot;
No shafts are level'd at the lowly head.
When my pleas'd eyes have drank the smiling scene,
Ye woods, whose glooms relieve each wanton light,
Clothing yon ambient hills with woolly green,
Long o'er my path let fall your leafy night!
Your outward wealth the eye unwilling leaves:
Phalanx of foliage! Vast, embodied shade!
Tree swells o'er tree, o'er tumour tumour heaves,
Of crowded hillocks like a boundless bed.
In your deep glooms I'll muse on truth sublime,
Till virtue's stronger heat high throbs within:
And oft in Fancy's light-wheel'd chariot climb
To spheres where woes nor errors e'er have been.
And oft the glowing moment, Nature, give,
When, every nerve in tune, each pulse at play,
In love with life, in love with all that live,
The bounding heart spurns each base care away!
Then fairest forms, then loveliest visions rise!
Omnific Fancy speaks; — lo, holy light
Breaks thro' the dark, and, rich in orient dies,
A new creation charms the mental sight!
And oft, light glancing o'er innumerous themes,
With playful wing shall wanton reason stray;
While sense, awake amid my lightsome dreams,
Hails the mild verdure of my bowery way.
Thus wandering on in round return, as home,
Emerging from the circling woods, I go,
Sweet change! to still retreat and sylvan gloom,
Succeeds, (a sudden scene,) the town below!
Its clustering roofs of dusky red I hail;
Its column'd smoke slow wreathing up the sky;
Grey tower and taper spire; while every gale
Wafts mingled sounds of dear society.
Hail, murmuring hive, that holds my little cell!
Children of men, with fond delight I hear
Your hum arise! ah never let me dwell,
Where those lov'd sounds may not salute mine ear.
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