Seat of my joys! In thee my soul shall prove The bliss, unpoisoned by the griefs, of love;

From Emma's glance the fiends of care depart, While seraphs bending, own her sister heart. In thy retreats her radiance virtue pours, Hope's everlasting spring awakes her flowers;

No blasts of anger or caprice destroy

The opening blossoms of domestic joy,

No clouds of coldness or disgust arise,

Thy fields to sadden or obscure thy skies.

Adorn'd by nature! no exotic flowers

Their haughty corols rear amid our bowers.
There lurks the violet; the sweet briar there
Yields willing kisses to the sportive air;
Her flexile arms the honeysuckle spreads;
And virgin roses blushing, bend their heads.

Supreme o'er all, Simplicity presides,

The arbour forms, the yielding streamlet guides,

Bids northern woods extend their sheltering arms,

And aids, but fears to alter, nature's charms.

Oh! 'tis a toil enlivened by delight,

Th' Hesperian star so cheers the brow of night,-
To lead the pathway, now through sylvan glooms,

Now, in broad sunshine, where the meadow blooms;

Now on the river's brink, now high above,

And think how oft the steps of those I love

Shall trace it, charmed;---young groves to plant, and say, "Their boughs may shade us when my locks are grey;" To graft, and hope my children may behold

The branches bend with fruit, Pomona's gold,
Or tinted with the rose's warmest glow ;-

In day-dreams sweet as these, the moments flow

Unmarked; while Love, around a sunny gleam Diffusing, breathes "Thy bliss is not a dream."

'Tis not a dream: Look, listen, and confess Each tone, each object, heightening happiness. Here not a bloom, misplaced, offends the sight;

But all in glowing harmony unite.

To aid the fascination of the scene,

No shrub is useless, and no flower is mean,

Even that rude furze unfolds a golden dye,
That flowerless fern displays its symmetry;
The daisy's petals brighten o'er the green,
And harebells rise in azure pride between.

Here not a sound is heard but boasts a charm

Suffering to soothe, and sadness to disarm.

The bleat of flocks, the distant lowings rise,

Symphonious with the music of the skies;

The brook its murmur yields, the grove its sigh,

And the bee-nations join their deep-toned minstrelsy.

Though hosts of clouds obscure the sunny sky; Though o'er mid-heaven the sounding tempests fly, Embrown the earth, and turn the seas to foam,

Yet storms shall spare, and lightning shun our Home.
Though Winter riding on the whirlwind's wing,
O'er plain and mountain his white terrors fling,
In adamant confine the struggling surge,

Drive the pale sun to æther's southern verge,
And waste the world; yet shall he strive in vain

Th' impregnable retreat of Home to gain.

The blazing fires shall chase his cold away,

Th' illumined hall deride his scanty day,

And, free as Avon flows in Summer's pride,

The tranquil stream of home-felt bliss shall glide.

Seat of my joys! In thy fair circle rest

Each hope, each wish that swells this throbbing breast.

The world, and all its host of evils known,

That prompt th' unceasing tear, and rouse the groan

Its painted charms, its hollow raptures tried,

As quicksands false, and changeful as the tide,

Can aught allure me from this dear retreat,
Pain to solicit, and ensure regret?

As those illusive fires, that, mid the night,

Seduce the traveller with their mimic light,