Thee the harass'd brain And aching heart with fond orisons greet; The respite thou of toil; the balm of pain; To thoughtful mind the hour for musing meet, 'Tis then the sage from forth his lone retreat, The rolling universe around espies; 'Tis then the bard may hold communion sweet With lovely shapes unkenned by grosser eyes, And quick perception comes of finer mysteries.

Where once her orisons devotion paid By fear, or hope, or reverence inspired, The sad solicitude of youth allay'd, And age in resignation calm attired.