POETRT. 



AN ODE TO SOLITUDE. 



For the Bee. 



Ah Solitude i celestial maid ! 

 Wrjp me in thy sequester'd (hade. 



And all my soul employ ; 

 From folly, ignorance, and strife. 

 From all the giody \vhirls of life, 



And loud unmeaning joy. 



While in the statesman's glowing dream 

 Fancy pourtrays the high-wrought scheme^ 



And plans a future fame ! 

 What is the phantom he pursues? 

 What the advantage that accrues ? 



Alas ! an empty name ! 



To him the grove no pleasure yields. 

 The mofsy bank, nor verdant fields. 



Nor daisy-painted lawns ; 

 In vain, th' ambrosial gale invites, 

 In vain all nature Iheds delights, 



Her genuine charms he scorns '. 



.Pleasure allures the giddy throng, 

 Tie gay, the vain, the fair, and young, 



AH benii. before her (hrine; 

 She spreads around dslusive snares, 

 The borrow'd garb of blifs (he weii;s, 



And tempts in form divine. 



Fa{hio'i, with wild tyrannic sway. 

 Directs ti>e bus'nefs of the day. 



And reigns without contioul ; 

 The beaus and sparkling belles confel^. 

 She animates the mcdes<rf drefs. 



And chains the willing soul. 



Can th^e, the slaves of Fa(hion't pow'r, 

 tnjoy the silent tranquil hour, 



And bifjom with nature's glow ? 

 Or to the votaries of sense, 

 Can Solitude her sweets dispcns:. 



And happinefs bestow ? 

 vot. viii. F B 



