Fresh garlands weave, and chase from all my bounds
Each thing impure and noxious. Enter in,
O Stranger undismayed. Nor bat, nor toad,
Here lurks: and if thy breast of blameless thoughts
Approve thee, not unwelcome shalt thou tread
My quiet mansion: chiefly if thy name
Wise Pallas and the immortal muses own.
Throned on the sun's descending car,
What power unseen diffuses far,
This tenderness of mind?
What Genius smiles on yonder flood,
What God in whispers from the wood,
Bids every thought be kind?
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