BOOK THE NINTH.
363
Their living melody; and warbling forth
To thee her twilight song, the Nightingale
Holds the lone Traveller from his way, or charms
The listening Poet's ear. Where Love shall deign
To fix his seat, there blameless Pleasure sheds 920
Her roseate dews; Content will sojourn there,
And Happiness behold Affection's eye
Gleam with the Mother's smile. Thrice happy he
Who feels thy holy power! he shall not drag,
Forlorn and friendless, along Life's long path 925
To Age's drear abode; he shall not waste
The bitter evening of his days unsooth'd;
But Hope shall cheer his hours of Solitude,
And Vice shall vainly strive to wound his breast,
That bears that talisman; and when he meets 930
The eloquent eye of Tenderness, and hears
The bosom-thrilling music of her voice;
The joy he feels shall purify his Soul,
And imp it for anticipated Heaven."
To thee her twilight song, the Nightingale
Holds the lone Traveller from his way, or charms
The listening Poet's ear. Where Love shall deign
To fix his seat, there blameless Pleasure sheds 920
Her roseate dews; Content will sojourn there,
And Happiness behold Affection's eye
Gleam with the Mother's smile. Thrice happy he
Who feels thy holy power! he shall not drag,
Forlorn and friendless, along Life's long path 925
To Age's drear abode; he shall not waste
The bitter evening of his days unsooth'd;
But Hope shall cheer his hours of Solitude,
And Vice shall vainly strive to wound his breast,
That bears that talisman; and when he meets 930
The eloquent eye of Tenderness, and hears
The bosom-thrilling music of her voice;
The joy he feels shall purify his Soul,
And imp it for anticipated Heaven."
