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Unless some viewless angel guest,
Who guards the spirits of the just,
Might seek among the rising sighs
To gather incense for the skies,
Or hover o'er that hallow'd sod,
To raise the mortal thought to God.
O gentle scene! Whose transient sight
So wakes my spirit to delight,
Where kindness, love, and joy unite;
That tho' no words the rapture speak,
The tear must tremble on the cheek,
The lay of gratitude he given,
The prayer in secret speed to heaven,
Here peace, long exil'd and opprest,
By those she came to save, distrest,
Might find repose from war's alarms,
And gaze on nature's treasured charms;
Beneath these mountain shades reclin'd,
Sing her sad dirge o'er lost mankind,
Or on mild virtue's tranquil breast,
Close her tir'd eye in gentle rest,
Forget her wounds, her toil, her pain.
And dream of Paradise again.
