Come, thou soft and sacred favour

Come, thou soft and sacred favour, The remembrance chaste impart; Take thy station on my bosom, Lightly lodging near the heart.

While that tender thing shall flutter, Thou the secret cause shalt know, Whether pleasure or disaster, Thou wilt see what stirs it so.

When the hope of happy tidings Shall the sweet sensations move; When the white and winged agents Whisper friendship, whisper love;

Then, all sympathetic, thrilling, Thou the rosy stream shalt guide; While, as runs the ruddy treasure, Thou'rt the Genius of the tide.

Haply when this heart is sinking Thou shalt soothe the rising sigh, When with woe surcharg'd, 'tis heaving, Thou wilt see the reason why.

Ev'ry curious eye escaping, Here securely shalt thou rest; Tho' the universe were searching, Thine the secrets of my breast.

Come then, dear and decent favour, Learn what thou wilt ne'er impart: Fix thy throne, and fix it ever, On the regions of my heart.

O'er these delicate dominions, Cast a Monarch's careful view, Render every subject passion Worthy me, and worthy you.

Let not realms so rich, so tender, Suffer rebel weeds to grow, But the flowers—ah! do not crush them, In sweet vision let them blow.

Gentlest sighs shall serve for breezes, Softly aid them, auburn friend; Silent tears, like dews descending, Shall the lovely growth attend.

Thou shalt watch them night and morning, Thou shalt see the nurselings rise: Thou, with me, shalt tremble for them; Thou, with me, invoke the skies.

If at length, alas, they wither, If they sicken, if they die, In one grave—oh, dear companion! Still embosom'd will we lie.