Sweet peace, that lov'st the silent hour,
The still retreat of leisure free;
Associate of each gentle power,
And eldest born of harmony!

O, if thou own'st this mossy cell,
If thine this mansion of repose;
Permit me, nymph, with thee to dwell,
With thee my wakeful eye to close.

And though those glittering scenes should fade,
That Pleasure's rosy train prepares;
What votary have they not betray'd?
What are they more than splendid cares?

But smiling days, exempt from care,
But nights, when sleep and silence reign;
Serenity, with aspect fair,
And love and joy are in thy train.