Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/133

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page needs to be proofread.

ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS. 113 �I thank Thee, that on me thou didst bestow. ' A soul so quicken'd to extract delight Ev'n from the simplest workings of thy hand ! Oh, may I never, or with vice corrupt, Or sunk by luxury to slavish sloth, And disregard of all that's good and fair, Lose that high relish for 1ov'd nature's charms, Which now I feel; which is my pride?my bliss, And which for all, a thousand worlds could give, I would not now forego. Oh, teach me, Thou Eternal Being, whether sable Night Vest iu her starry robe the solemn sky; Or that fair orb, Thou gay'st torule the day, Bound from his bright bed, and exulting shake His orient tresses o'er the gladden'd earth; At noonmat eve, and thro' each various change, That marks each season of the circling year, To taste thy blessings, and feel grateful still ! � STANZAS Written in a blank leaf of Campbell's Pleasures of Hope. 'TIs long that sorrow has raaintain'd Sole empire o'er this cheerless breast, ! ......... ?Goo?Ie