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XIV.
With grateful tears, the suppliant bow’d his head,
With steps enliven’d, trod the winding stair—
The wholesome viands, hospitably spread,
Chear’d his old heart, and soften’d all his care.
Hail! genial warmer of the human heart!
Hail Hospitality! thou flame divine!—
Whether at festive board thy bounties shine,
Or to the wo-worn breast thou dost impart!
The weary traveller thy value knows,
Sorrow is sooth’d—affliction too, made light:
Through thee, misfortune’s cloud appeareth bright,
And pining want, with grateful feeling glows!—
Thy mansion’s blest, in blessings to mankind—
Bestowing thus, as Heav’n at first decreed—
Thine all the pleasures of the godlike deed—
Exalted, pure, congenial and refin’d!
Hail Hospitality! thou flame divine!
The heart-felt joys of self-complacency are thine!
