Page:The Art of Preserving Health - A Poem in Four Books.djvu/92

84 To trace the horrors of the solemn wood, While the soft evening saddens into night: Tho' the sweet poet of the vernal groves Melts all the night in strains of amorous woe.


 * The shades descend, and midnight o'er the world

Expands her sable wings. Great nature droops 385 [sic]Thro' all her works. Now happy he whose toil Has o'er his languid powerless limbs diffus'd A pleasing lassitude: He not in vain Invokes the gentle deity of dreams. His powers the most voluptuously dissolve In soft repose: On him the balmy dews Of sleep with double nutriment descend. But would you sweetly waste the blank of night In deep oblivion; or on fancy's wings Visit the paradise of happy dreams, Rh