Classic Poem

TO TEMPERANCE .

O Nymph divine! to whom belong
The ruddy cheek and lucid eye;
Who roam'st the airy hills along,
Regardless of the freezing sky;
Far from the rich luxurious board,
That bends beneath its ample hoard;
Far from the madding midnight throng,
The jest profane, and senseless song;
The frantic hour when riot rules —
Far from the boisterous mirth of fools,
To scenes of happier, softer kind,
Where, gently on the musing mind,

Reflection rolls her silent tide,
O Temperance! thou my footsteps guide.
Then, whilst enamour'd I thy praise rehearse,
Do thou thy modest inspiration give;
Not such as bids the rapture-breathing verse,
Thro' every future age unrivall'd live.
Enough for me, if lost to fame,
Some casual note my lonely hours may cheer;
And doubly blest if haply I might claim
The lov'd applause of friendship's partial ear.

Secure beneath thy guardian eye.
The crimson tide untainted flows;
With native health the heart beats high,
The cheek with native blushes glows.
Stranger to thee the painful throe,
Which Luxury's pale-eyed minions know,
When Indolence awakes her stings,
Or Gout his dreaded scorpions brings,
Or Fever fires the burning vein,
Or Apoplex invades the brain!
Sweet are thine hours of evening rest,
Nor fears awake, nor dreams molest;
And thine the spirits pure and gay,
As the light breeze of vernal day.
Guardian of health! with thee the goddess loves,
At earliest dawn the mountain air to breathe;
Or with the hunters pierce the deepening grove,
Mount the steep hill, or sweep the vale beneath:
Or seek the freshness of the wave,
When Phaebus leads the sultry hours along,
There, midst encircling woods securely lave:
Dauntless by dangers, and by hardships strong.

O to thy votary's wishes kind,
To thee shall flow the grateful strain,
That thou his happier seat design'd,
Remote from Afric's burning plain;
Where from the still and reedy lake,
The oozy shore, or tangled brake,
Rous'd by the sun's intenser rays,
Start the dread spirits of disease;
And raising high his burnish'd sides,
Sublime the crested serpent rides;
Nor bad his shivering cottage rise,
Where winter wraps the polar skies;
And from th' inhospitable zone,
Each charm of social life is flown:
But plac'd in temperate climes his fairer lot,
Where Nature every modest grace reveals;
Where wandering currents cheer the favour'd spot,
And waving fields and balmy-breathing gales:
Where oft at evening's milder hour,
The rural pleasures frolic o'er the green;
Where meditation haunts the peaceful bower,
And sacred freedom gladdens all the scene.

So pass my life — and when from earth remov'd,
May no invidious tomb my deeds emblaze;
But may some friend, whom long my heart has lov'd,
On the plain stone thus mark my humble praise.
" Unknown to fame, here rests a youth,
" From life's bye-path whom pomp could ne'er allure,
" The friend of virtue and the friend of truth,
" Blest without wealth, and happy tho' obscure. "

TO TEMPERANCE .

O Nymph divine! to whom belong
The ruddy cheek and lucid eye;
Who roam'st the airy hills along,
Regardless of the freezing sky;
Far from the rich luxurious board,
That bends beneath its ample hoard;
Far from the madding midnight throng,
The jest profane, and senseless song;
The frantic hour when riot rules —
Far from the boisterous mirth of fools,
To scenes of happier, softer kind,
Where, gently on the musing mind,

Reflection rolls her silent tide,
O Temperance! thou my footsteps guide.
Then, whilst enamour'd I thy praise rehearse,
Do thou thy modest inspiration give;
Not such as bids the rapture-breathing verse,
Thro' every future age unrivall'd live.
Enough for me, if lost to fame,
Some casual note my lonely hours may cheer;
And doubly blest if haply I might claim
The lov'd applause of friendship's partial ear.

Secure beneath thy guardian eye.
The crimson tide untainted flows;
With native health the heart beats high,
The cheek with native blushes glows.
Stranger to thee the painful throe,
Which Luxury's pale-eyed minions know,
When Indolence awakes her stings,
Or Gout his dreaded scorpions brings,
Or Fever fires the burning vein,
Or Apoplex invades the brain!
Sweet are thine hours of evening rest,
Nor fears awake, nor dreams molest;
And thine the spirits pure and gay,
As the light breeze of vernal day.
Guardian of health! with thee the goddess loves,
At earliest dawn the mountain air to breathe;
Or with the hunters pierce the deepening grove,
Mount the steep hill, or sweep the vale beneath:
Or seek the freshness of the wave,
When Phaebus leads the sultry hours along,
There, midst encircling woods securely lave:
Dauntless by dangers, and by hardships strong.

O to thy votary's wishes kind,
To thee shall flow the grateful strain,
That thou his happier seat design'd,
Remote from Afric's burning plain;
Where from the still and reedy lake,
The oozy shore, or tangled brake,
Rous'd by the sun's intenser rays,
Start the dread spirits of disease;
And raising high his burnish'd sides,
Sublime the crested serpent rides;
Nor bad his shivering cottage rise,
Where winter wraps the polar skies;
And from th' inhospitable zone,
Each charm of social life is flown:
But plac'd in temperate climes his fairer lot,
Where Nature every modest grace reveals;
Where wandering currents cheer the favour'd spot,
And waving fields and balmy-breathing gales:
Where oft at evening's milder hour,
The rural pleasures frolic o'er the green;
Where meditation haunts the peaceful bower,
And sacred freedom gladdens all the scene.

So pass my life — and when from earth remov'd,
May no invidious tomb my deeds emblaze;
But may some friend, whom long my heart has lov'd,
On the plain stone thus mark my humble praise.
" Unknown to fame, here rests a youth,
" From life's bye-path whom pomp could ne'er allure,
" The friend of virtue and the friend of truth,
" Blest without wealth, and happy tho' obscure. "