Page:Poems translated from the French of Madame De la Mothe Guion.djvu/77

 A Saviour doubles all my joys,

And sweetens all my pains,

His strength in my defence employs,

Consoles me, and sustains.

I fear no ill, resent no wrong:

Nor feel a passion move,

When malice whets her sland'rous tongue;

Such patience is in Love.

WILDS horrid and dark with o'ershadowing trees,

Rocks that ivy and briars infold,

Scenes, nature with dread and astonishment sees,

But I with a pleasure untold!

Though awfully silent, and shaggy and rude,

I am charm'd with the peace ye afford,

Your shades are a temple where none will intrude,

The abode of my Lover and Lord.

I am sick of thy splendor, O! fountain of day!

And here I am hid from thy beams,

Here safely contemplate a brighter display

Of the noblest and holiest themes.

Ye forests that yield me my sweetest repose,

Where stillness and solitude reign,