Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell (1833).djvu/227

Rh Might I thus my soul employ, With sense of gratitude and joy! Rais'd as ancient prophets were, In heavenly vision, praise, and prayer; Pleasing all men, hurting none, Pleas'd and bless'd with God alone: Then while the gardens take my sight, With all the colours of delight; While silver waters glide along, To please my ear, and court my song; I'll lift my voice, and tune my string, And thee, great source of nature, sing.

The sun that walks his airy way, To light the world, and give the day; The moon that shines with borrow'd light; The stars that gild the gloomy night; The seas that roll unnumber'd waves; The wood that spreads its shady leaves; The field whose ears conceal the grain, The yellow treasure of the plain; All of these, and all I see, Should be sung, and sung by me: They speak their maker as they can, But want and ask the tongue of man.

Go search among your idle dreams, Your busy or your vain extremes; And find a life of equal bliss, Or own the next begun in this.