Page:Odes on several subjects - Akenside (1745).djvu/21

Rh 'Tis thus, to work her baleful pow'r, waits the sullen hour Of fretfulness and strife, When care th' infirmer bosom wrings, Or shakes his gloomy wings To damp the seats of life.

But come, forsake the scene unblest, Which first beheld you candid breast, To groundless fears a prey; Come, where with my prevailing lyre The skies, the streams, the groves conspire To charm your doubts away.

Thron'd in the sun's descending car, What Pow'r unseen diffuses far This tenderness of mind? What Genius smiles on every flood? What, in whispers from the wood, Bids every heart be kind? Rh