Of Folly weary, shrinking from the view
Of Violence and Fraud, allow'd to take
All peace from humble life; I would forsake
Their haunts for ever, and, sweet Nymph! with you
Find shelter; where my tired, and tear-swollen eyes,
Among your silent shades of soothing hue,
Your "bells and florets of unnumbered dyes"
Might rest--and learn the bright varieties
That from your lovely hands are fed with dew;
And every veinéd leaf that trembling sighs
In mead or woodland; or in wilds remote,
Or lurk with mosses in the humid caves,
Mantle the cliffs, on dimpling rivers float,
Or stream from coral rocks beneath the ocean's waves.