| |
| WRAPP’D in innocent repose, | |
| Lost to all its little woes, | |
| See that lovely infant rest, | |
| On the pillow’s downy breast. | |
| Wearied with the toils of day, | 5 |
| Little frolics, childish play, | |
| Frequent joy, and frequent grief, | |
| Nature yields a short relief. | |
| Say, my sleeping cherub, say, | |
| Whither doth thy spirit stray? | 10 |
| Art thou flown to realms above, | |
| On some angel’s wings of love, | |
| Where, array’d in purest white, | |
| Dwell the sainted sons of light, | |
| Hymning round the eternal throne, | 15 |
| Praise to God’s Almighty Son? | |
| Or dost thou now at random roam; | |
| Through creation’s nightly tomb, | |
| Borne by Death’s insidious power, | |
| To his temporary bower? | 20 |
| Hush the thought!—I see thee smile! | |
| Dreams thy little heart beguile; | |
| O’er thy sweet, enchanting face, | |
| Steals inimitable grace. | |
| Say, my little cherub, say, | 25 |
| Whither doth thy spirit stray? | |
| Hark!—his answering smile replies— | |
| “Far from hence my spirit flies; | |
| Borne on Fancy’s wing, I move | |
| To a mother’s arms of love, | 30 |
| And clasp’d in sweet embraces, rest | |
| On her balmy angel-breast. | |
| Here the tides of pleasure roll, | |
| Rapture charms the licensed soul, | |
| Here divinest transports play, | 35 |
| Here affection loves to stray, | |
| Here I share the envied kiss, | |
| Sink in pleasure, drown in bliss. | |
| Spotless as the beams of light, | |
| Crowding on the ravish’d sight, | 40 |
| Ever new its beauties rise, | |
| Charming unforbidden eyes. | |
| Hark!—My mother’s voice benign, | |
| Speaks in harmony divine”— | |
| Peaceful here, my infant rest, | 45 |
| On your raptured parent’s breast. | |
| Here no hand shall enter rude, | |
| No unhallow’d eye intrude; | |
| In this paradise of joy, | |
| Dwells no spirit to destroy; | 50 |
| But, on Virtue’s spotless throne, | |
| Thy happy Father reigns alone, | |
| Licensed here alone to move, | |
| Bathing in voluptuous love, | |
| Pleasure here without alloy, | 55 |
| Pours an endless stream of joy, | |
| While its blissful currents roll, | |
| Through the mazes of his soul. | |
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