&nbspTranquillity! thou better name
       &nbspThan all the family of Fame!
       &nbspThou ne'er wilt leave my riper age
       &nbspTo low intrigue, or factious rage;
       &nbspFor oh! dear child of thoughtful Truth,
       &nbspTo thee I gave my early youth,
And left the bark, and blest the steadfast shore,
Ere yet the tempest rose and scared me with its roar.


       &nbspWho late and lingering seeks thy shrine,
       &nbspOn him but seldom, Power divine,
       &nbspThy spirit rests! Satiety
       &nbspAnd Sloth, poor counterfeits of thee,
       &nbspMock the tired worldling. Idle Hope
       &nbspAnd dire Remembrance interlope,
To vex the feverish slumbers of the mind:
The bubble floats before, the spectre stalks behind.

       &nbspBut me thy gentle hand will lead
       &nbspAt morning through the accustomed mead;
       &nbspAnd in the sultry summer's heat
       &nbspWill build me up a mossy seat;
       &nbspAnd when the gust of Autumn crowds,
       &nbspAnd breaks the busy moonlight clouds,
Thou best the thought canst raise, the heart attune,
Light as the busy clouds, calm as the gliding moon.


       &nbspThe feeling heart, the searching soul,
       &nbspTo thee I dedicate the whole!
       &nbspAnd while within myself I trace
       &nbspThe greatness of some future race,
       &nbspAloof with hermit-eye I scan
       &nbspThe present works of present man—
A wild and dream-like trade of blood and guile,
Too foolish for a tear, too wicked for a smile!