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THE TRIUMPHS


CANTO IV.

HAIL, thou enlighten'd globe of human joy!
Where social cares the soften'd heart employ:
What cheering rays of vital comfort roll
In thy bright regions o'er the rescued soul,
Which, 'scaping from the dark domain of Spleen,
Springs with new warmth to thy attractive scene!
Once more I bless thy pleasure-breathing gale,
And gaze enchanted on thy flowery vale,
Where smiling innocence, and ardent youth,
Sport hand in hand with beauty and with truth.
Sport on, sweet revellers! in rosy bowers,
Safe from th' intrusion of all evil powers!
Ah fruitless wish of the benignant Muse,
Which to this chequer'd world the Fates refuse!
For round its precincts many an ugly sprite
Speeds undiscern'd to poison pure delight: