Pain cannot move it, danger cannot scare;
Pleasure and wealth, in its esteem, are dust;
It loves thee, e'en when least inclined to spare
Its tenderest feelings, and avows thee just.

'Tis all thine own; my spirit is so too,
An undivided offering at thy shrine;
It seeks thy glory with no double view,
Thy glory with no secret bent to mine.

Love, holy Love! and art thou not severe,
To slight me, thus devoted, and thus fix'd?
Mine is an everlasting ardour, clear
From all self-bias, generous and unmix'd.

But I am silent, seeing what I see—
And fear, with cause, that I am self-deceived;
Not e'en my faith is from suspicion free,
And, that I love, seems not to be believed.

Live thou, and reign for ever, glorious Lord!
My last, least offering, I present thee now—
Renounce me, leave me, and be still adored!
Slay me, my God, and I applaud the blow.


Sleep at last has fled these eyes,
Nor do I regret his flight,
More alert my spirits rise,
And my heart is free and light.

Nature silent all around,
Not a single witness near;
God as soon as sought is found;
And the flame of love burns clear.

Interruption, all day long,
Checks the current of my joys;
Creatures press me with a throng,
And perplex me with their noise.

Undisturb'd I muse all night,
On the first Eternal Fair;
Nothing there obstructs delight,
Love is renovated there.

Life, with its perpetual stir,
Proves a foe to Love and me;
Fresh entanglements occur—
Comes the night and sets me free.

Never more, sweet sleep, suspend
My enjoyments, always new:
Leave me to possess my friend;
Other eyes and hearts subdue.

Hush the world, that I may wake
To the taste of pure delights;
Oh the pleasures I partake—
God, the partner of my nights!

David, for the self-same cause,
Night preferr'd to busy day:
Hearts whom heavenly beauty draws
Wish the glaring sun away.

Sleep, self-lovers, is for you—
Souls that love celestial know,
Fairer scenes by night can view
Than the sun could ever show.


Season of my purest pleasure, Sealer of observing eyes!
When, in larger, freer measure,

I can commune with the skies; While, beneath thy shade extended,

Weary man forgets his woes; I, my daily trouble ended, Find, in watching, my repose.

Silence all around prevailing,

Nature hush'd in slumber sweet, No rude noise mine ears assailing,

Now my God and I can meet: Universal nature slumbers,

And my soul partakes the calm, Breathes her ardour out in numbers,

Plaintive song or lofty psalm.

Now my passion, pure and holy, Shines and burns without restraint;

Which the day's fatigue and folly Cause to languish, dim and faint: VOL. III. 9

Charming hours of relaxation!

How I dread the ascending sun I Surely, idle conversation

Is an evil, match'd by none.

Worldly prate and babble hurt me;

Unintelligible prove;
Neither teach me nor divert me;

I have ears for none but love.
Me they rude esteem, and foolish,

Hearing my absurd replies; I have neither art's fine polish,

Nor the knowledge of the wise.

Simple souls, and unpolluted,

By conversing with the great,
Have a mind and taste, ill suited

To their dignity and state;
All their talking, reading, writing,

Are but talents misapplied;
Infants' prattle I delight in,

Nothing human choose beside.

'Tis the secret fear of sinning

Checks my tongue, or I should say, When I see the night beginning,

I am glad of parting day; Love this gentle admonition

Whispers soft within my breast; "Choice befits not thy condition,

Acquiescence suits thee best."

Henceforth, the repose and pleasure

Night affords me I resign;
And thy will shall be the measure,

Wisdom infinite of mine:
Wishing is but inclination

Quarrelling with thy decrees; Wayward nature finds the occasion—

'Tis her folly and disease.

Night, with its sublime enjoyments,

Now no longer will I choose; Nor the day with its employments,

Irksome as they seem, refuse; Lessons of a God's inspiring

Neither time nor place impedes; From our wishing and desiring

Our unhappiness proceeds.


Night! how I love thy silent shades, My spirits they compose; The bliss of heaven my soul pervades, In spite of all my woes.

While sleep instils her poppy dews

In every slumbering eye,
I watch, to meditate and muse,

In blest tranquillity.

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