The prints of her departing steps appear. Ye sacred Muses! with whose beauty fired, My soul is ravished, and my brain inspired-- Whose priest I am, whose holy fillets wear-- Would you your poet's first petition hear; Give me the ways of wandering stars to know, The depths of heaven above, and earth below: Teach me the various labours of the moon, And whence proceed the eclipses of the sun; Why flowing tides prevail upon the main, And in what dark recess they shrink again; What shakes the solid earth; what cause delays The summer nights, and shortens winter days. But, if my heavy blood restrain the flight } Of my free soul, aspiring to the height } Of nature, and unclouded fields of light-- } My next desire is, void of care and strife, To lead a soft, secure, inglorious life-- A country cottage near a crystal flood, A winding valley, and a lofty wood. Some god conduct me to the sacred shades, Where Bacchanals are sung by Spartan maids, Or lift me high to Hæmus' hilly crown, Or in the plains of Tempe lay me down, Or lead me to some solitary place, And cover my retreat from human race. Happy the man, who, studying nature's laws, Through known effects can trace the sacred cause-- His mind possessing in a quiet state, Fearless of fortune, and resigned to fate! And happy too is he, who decks the bowers Of Sylvans, and adores the rural powers-- Whose mind, unmoved, the bribes of courts can see, Their glittering baits, and purple slavery-- Nor hopes the people's praise, nor fears their frown, } Nor, when contending kindred tear the crown, } Will set up one, or pull another down. } Without concern he hears, but hears from far, Of tumults, and descents, and distant war; Nor with a superstitious fear is awed, For what befalls at home, or what abroad. Nor envies he the rich their heapy store, Nor his own peace disturbs with pity for the poor. He feeds on fruits, which, of their own accord, The willing ground and laden trees afford. From his loved home no lucre him can draw; } The senate's mad decrees he never saw; } Nor heard, at bawling bars, corrupted law. } Some to the seas, and some to camps, resort, And some with impudence invade the court: In foreign countries, others seek renown; With wars and taxes, others waste their own, And houses burn, and household gods deface, To drink in bowls with glittering gems enchase, To loll on couches, rich with citron steds, And lay their guilty limbs in Tyrian beds. This wretch in earth entombs his golden ore, Hovering and brooding on his buried store. Some patriot fools to popular praise aspire Of public speeches, which worse fools admire, While, from both benches, with redoubled sounds, The applause of lords and commoners abounds.