Then from my dark and closing eye, ODE VII. ΤΟ CONTENTMENT. BY THE REV. THOMAS COLE. To these lone shades, where Peace delights to dwell, Here bid the world, with all its cares, farewel, Oft as the summer's sun shall cheer this scene ray, Here let my soul enjoy each eve serene, Here share its calm, 'till life's declining day. No gladsome image then should 'scape my sight, From these gay flowers, which border near my eye, To yon bright cloud, that decks, with richest light, The gilded mantle of the western sky. With ample gaze I'd trace that ridge remote, What various works that rural landscape fill, How should I love to mark that riv❜let's maze, Through which it works its untaught course along; Whilst near its grassy banks the herd shall graze, And blithsome milkmaid chaunt her thoughtless song! Still would I note the shades of length'ning sheep, As scatter'd o'er the hill's slant brow they rove; Still note the day's last glimmʼring lustre creep From off the verge of yonder upland grove. Nor should my leisure seldom wait to view The slow-wing'd rooks in homeward train succeed; Nor yet forbear the swallow to pursue, With quicker glance, close skimming o'er the mead. But mostly here should I delight t' explore The bounteous laws of Nature's mystic power; Then muse on Him who blesseth all her store, And give to solemn thoughts the sober hour. Let mirth unenvy'd laugh with proud disdain, And deem it spleen one moment thus to waste; If so she keep far hence her noisy train, Nor interrupt those joys she cannot taste. Far sweeter streams shall flow from Wisdom's spring, Hail, Silence, then! be thou my frequent guest; What joy for tutor❜d Piety to learn All that my Christian solitude can teach, Where weak-ey'd Reason's self may well discern Each clearer truth the gospel deigns to preach ? No object here but may convince the mind 'Tis God that gives this bower its awful gloom; Oh, may the guidance of thy grace attend Or vice convert it into means of woe. Incline and aid me still my life to steer, As conscience dictates what to shun or chuse ; Nor let my heart feel anxious hope or fear, For aught this world can give me or refuse. Then shall not wealth's parade one wish excite, For wretched state to barter peace away; Nor vain ambition's lure my pride invite, Beyond Contentment's humble path to stray. What though thy wisdom may my lot deny, And sure the heart that wills the gen❜rous deed For she best loves from notice to recede, Then will I sometimes bid my fancy steal And realize cach godly act she feigns. |