| |
| TO-NIGHT retir’d 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. | |
| |
| O Hesper, while the starry throng | |
| With awe thy path surrounds, | |
| Oh, listen to my suppliant song, | |
| If haply now the vocal sphere | 10 |
| Can suffer thy delighted ear | |
| To stoop to mortal sounds. | |
| |
| So may the bridegroom’s genial strain | |
| Thee still invoke to shine; | |
| So may the bride’s unmarried train | 15 |
| To Hymen chaunt their flattering vow, | |
| Still that his lucky torch may glow | |
| With lustre pure as thine. | |
| |
| Far other vows must I prefer | |
| To thy indulgent power. | 20 |
| Alas! but now I paid my tear | |
| On fair Olympia’s virgin tomb; | |
| And lo, from thence, in quest I roam | |
| Of Philomela’s bower. | |
| |
| Propitious send thy golden ray, | 25 |
| Thou purest light above: | |
| Let no false flame seduce to stray | |
| Where gulf or steep lie hid for harm; | |
| But lead where music’s healing charm | |
| May soothe afflicted love. | 30 |
| |
| To them, by many a grateful song | |
| In happier seasons vow’d, | |
| These lawns, Olympia’s haunt, belongs: | |
| Oft by yon silver stream we walk’d, | |
| Or fix’d, while Philomela talk’d, | 35 |
| Beneath yon copses stood. | |
| |
| Nor seldom, where the beechen boughs | |
| That roofless tower invade, | |
| We came while her enchanting Muse | |
| The radiant moon above us held; | 40 |
| Till, by a clamorous owl compell’d, | |
| She fled the solemn shade. | |
| |
| But hark; I hear her liquid tone. | |
| Now, Hesper, guide my feet | |
| Down the red marl with moss o’ergrown, | 45 |
| Through yon wild thicket next the plain, | |
| Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane, | |
| Which leads to her retreat. | |
| |
| See the green space: on either hand | |
| Enlarg’d it spreads around: | 50 |
| See, in the midst she takes her stand, | |
| Where one old oak his awful shade | |
| Extends o’er half the level mead | |
| Inclos’d in woods profound. | |
| |
| Hark how through many a melting note | 55 |
| She now prolongs her lays: | |
| How sweetly down the void they float! | |
| The breeze their magic path attends; | |
| The stars shine out; the forest bends; | |
| The wakeful heifers gaze. | 60 |
| |
| Whoe’er thou art whom chance may bring | |
| To this sequest’d spot, | |
| If then the plaintive Siren sing, | |
| O softly tread beneath her bower, | |
| And think of heaven’s disposing power, | 65 |
| Of man’s uncertain lot. | |
| |
| O think, o’er all this mortal stage, | |
| What mournful scenes arise; | |
| What ruin waits on kingly rage; | |
| How often virtue dwells with woe; | 70 |
| How many griefs from knowledge flow; | |
| How swiftly pleasure flies. | |
| |
| O sacred bird, let me at eve, | |
| Thus wandering all alone, | |
| Thy tender counsel oft receive, | 75 |
| Bear witness to thy pensive airs, | |
| And pity Nature’s common cares | |
| Till I forget my own. | |
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