The Poetical Works of James Beattie/Retirement

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RETIREMENT.

When in the crimson cloud of evenThe lingering light decays,And Hesper on the front of heavenHis glittering gem displays;Deep in the silent vale, unseen,Beside a lulling stream,A pensive youth of placid mienIndulg'd this tender theme:
"Ye cliffs, in hoary grandeur pil'dHigh o'er the glimmering dale;Ye woods, along whose windings wildMurmurs the solemn gale;Where Melancholy strays forlorn,And Woe retires to weep,What time the wan moon's yellow hornGleams on the western deep:
To you, ye wastes, whose artless charmsNe'er drew Ambition's eye,Scap'd a tumultuous world's alarms,To your retreats I fly.Deep in your most sequester'd bowerLet me at last recline,Where Solitude, mild, modest power,Leans on her ivy'd shrine.
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"How shall I woo thee, matchless fair!Thy heavenly smile how win!Thy smile that smoothes the brow of Care,And stills the storm within.O wilt thou to thy favourite groveThine ardent votary bring,And bless his hours, and bid them moveSerene, on silent wing!
"Oft let remembrance soothe his mindWith dreams of former days,When in the lap of Peace reclin'dHe fram'd his infant lays;When Fancy roved at large, nor CareNor cold Distrust alarm'd,Nor Envy with malignant glareHis simple youth had harm'd.
"'Twas then, O Solitude! to theeHis early vows were paid,From heart sincere, and warm, and free,Devoted to the shade.Ah, why did Fate his steps decoyIn stormy paths to roam,Remote from all congenial joy!—O take the wanderer home.
"Thy shades, thy silence now be mine,Thy charms my only theme;My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pineWaves o'er the gloomy stream, ​Whence the scar'd owl on pinions grayBreaks from the rustling boughs,And down the lone vale sails awayTo more profound repose.
"O while to thee the woodland poursIts wildly warbling song,And balmy from the banks of flowersThe Zephyr breathes along;Let no rude sounds invade from far,No vagrant foot be nigh,No ray from Grandeur's gilded carFlash on the startled eye.
"But if some pilgrim through the gladeThy hallow'd bowers explore,O guard from harm his hoary head,And listen to his lore;For he of joys divine shall tellThat wean from earthly woe,And triumph o'er the mighty spellThat chains this heart below.
"For me no more the path invitesAmbition loves to tread;No more I climb those toilsome heightsBy guileful Hope misled;Leaps my fond fluttering heart no moreTo Mirth's enlivening strain;For present pleasure soon is o'er,And all the past is vain."
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