Page:Odes on several subjects - Akenside (1745).djvu/48

44

HOU silent pow'r, whose balmy sway Charms every anxious thought away; In whose divine oblivion drown'd, Fatigue and toiling pain grow mild, Love is with sweet success beguil'd, And sad remorse forgets her secret wound; O whither hast thou flown, indulgent God? God of kind shadows and of healing dews, O'er whom dost thou extend thy magic rod? Around what peaceful couch thy opiate airs diffuse?

Lo, midnight from her starry reign Looks awful down on earth and main. The