| TO-NIGHT retired, the queen of heaven | |
| With young Endymion stays; | |
| And now to Hesper it is given | |
| Awhile to rule the vacant sky, | |
| Till she shall to her lamp supply | 5 |
| A stream of brighter rays. | |
| |
| Propitious send thy golden ray, | |
| Thou purest light above! | |
| Let no false flame seduce to stray | |
| Where gulf or steep lie hid for harm; | 10 |
| But lead where music's healing charm | |
| May soothe afflicted love. | |
| |
| To them, by many a grateful song | |
| In happier seasons vow'd, | |
| These lawns, Olympia's haunts, belong: | 15 |
| Oft by yon silver stream we walk'd, | |
| Or fix'd, while Philomela talk'd, | |
| Beneath yon copses stood. | |
| |
| Nor seldom, where the beechen boughs | |
| That roofless tower invade, | 20 |
| We came, while her enchanting Muse | |
| The radiant moon above us held: | |
| Till, by a clamorous owl compell'd, | |
| She fled the solemn shade. | |
| |
| But hark! I hear her liquid tone! | 25 |
| Now Hesper guide my feet! | |
| Down the red marl with moss o'ergrown, | |
| Through yon wild thicket next the plain, | |
| Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane | |
| Which leads to her retreat. | 30 |
| |
| See the green space: on either hand | |
| Enlarged it spreads around: | |
| See, in the midst she takes her stand, | |
| Where one old oak his awful shade | |
| Extends o'er half the level mead, | 35 |
| Enclosed in woods profound. | |
| |
| Hark! how through many a melting note | |
| She now prolongs her lays: | |
| How sweetly down the void they float! | |
| The breeze their magic path attends; | 40 |
| The stars shine out; the forest bends; | |
| The wakeful heifers graze. | |
| |
| Whoe'er thou art whom chance may bring | |
| To this sequester'd spot, | |
| If then the plaintive Siren sing, | 45 |
| O softly tread beneath her bower | |
| And think of Heaven's disposing power, | |
| Of man's uncertain lot. | |
| |
| O think, o'er all this mortal stage | |
| What mournful scenes arise: | 50 |
| What ruin waits on kingly rage; | |
| How often virtue dwells with woe; | |
| How many griefs from knowledge flow; | |
| How swiftly pleasure flies! | |
| |
| O sacred bird! let me at eve, | 55 |
| Thus wandering all alone, | |
| Thy tender counsel oft receive, | |
| Bear witness to thy pensive airs, | |
| And pity Nature's common cares, | |
| Till I forget my own. | 60 |
