Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell (1833).djvu/41

There the last refuge of his exiled woes,
The village pastor's humble dwelling rose,
Who far from worldly cares, from worldly strife,
Watch'd the calm sunset of his closing life.
Fix'd in these sheltering vales his peaceful seat,
Amid the silent blessings of retreat,
Pleas'd 'mid his books, his fold, his farm to stray,
And pass, as Tully pass'd, the approving day.
Or him the lov'd of Earth — the sent of Heaven,
To whom the knowledge of its will was given;
Guide of the wanderer — teacher of the blind,
Well was he call'd— the Wisest of Mankind.

Ah, mark, with reverence mark, each willowy glade,
Each wild- wood walk where oft the poet stray 'd,
His favourite path beneath yon hawthorns green,
Where the small glow-worm's emerald lamp was seen,
Star of the earth — of eve! — yon bank of flowers,
Detain'd him musing through the noontide hours;
And still the traveller points the green retreat,
The crystal waters and the Muses' seat,
There would he watch the morning's dewy beam
Tremble with silver lustre on the stream,
Or view, as the mild shades of evening blend,
The orb of glory to his couch descend.
And oft before his youthful eyes there came
Bright gleams, the Aurora of his future fame;
He felt the gale that blew from Mars's hill,
He heard the murmurs of Ilissus' rill.