My life steals on; (O could it blend with thine!) Careless my course, yet not without design.

So thro' the vales of Loire the bee-hives glide, î
The light raft dropping with the silent tide;

So, till the laughing scenes are lost in night,
The busy people wing their various flight,

Culling unnumber'd sweets from nameless flowers,

That scent the vineyard in its purple hours.

Rise, ere the watch-relieving clarions play,

Caught thro' St. James's groves at blush of day;
Ere its full voice the choral anthem flings
Thro' trophied tombs of heroes and of kings.

Haste to the tranquil shade of learned ease,
Tho' skill'd alike to dazzle and to please;

*

Innocuas amo delicias doctamque quietem,

I

Tho' each gay scene be search'd with anxious eye,

Nor thy shut door be pass'd without a sigh.

If, when this roof shall know thy friend no more,

Some, form'd like thee, should once, like thee, explore;

Invoke the lares of his lov'd retreat,

And his lone walks imprint with pilgrim-feet;

Then be it said, (as, vain of better days,

Some grey domestic prompts the partial praise ;) "Unknown he liv'd, unenvied, not unblest;

Reason his guide, and Happiness his guest.

In the clear mirror of his moral page,

We trace the manners of a purer age.

His soul, with thirst of genuine glory fraught,
Scorn'd the false lustre of licentious thought.
-One fair asylum from the world he knew,

One chosen seat, that charms with various view!

Who boasts of more (believe the serious strain)

Sighs for a home, and sighs, alas! in vain.

Thro' each he roves, the tenant of a day,

And, with the swallow, wings the year away!"

г