Page:The works of Anna Laetitia Barbauld volume 1.djvu/136

52 Of still domestic leisure breathe the soul Of friendship, peace, and elegant delight Beneath poetic shades, where leads the Muse Through walks of fragrance, and the fairy groves Where young ideas blossom?—Is there one Whose tender hand, lenient of human woes, Wards off the dart of death, and smooths the couch Of torturing anguish? On so dear a name May blessings dwell, honour, and cordial praise ; Nor need he be a brother to be loved.

of Truth, alike through Nature's field, And where in sacred leaves she shines revea’d,— Alike in both, eccentric, piercing, bold, Like his own lightnings, which no chains can hold; Neglecting caution, and disdaining art, He seeks no armour for a naked heart:—