The Patowmac Guardian, And Berkeley Advertiser

SEAT OF THE MUSES.
GENTLE SLUMBERS.

AN ODE

Now peaceful night
Succeeds the light,
And half the world invades
Deep silence reigns
O'er all the plains
Amid surrounding shades.

Now man and beast,
Their labour ceas'd,
Enjoy a sweet relief:
The list'ning ear
No sound can hear,
For nature's hush'd in peace

Till through the gloom,
Which shrouds the room
In pale and glimmering rays.
Crept from the hearth,
In lonely mirth,
The Cricket chirps his lays.

The friendly bed
Receives my head.
Fatigu'd with scenes of day
My limbs reclin'd
Refreshment find.
And doze their pains away

Tormenting grief
Obtains relief.
To balmy rest resign'd
Sweet themes of joy
My thoughts employ,
And raptures swell the mind.

Yet sleep still flies
These pensive eyes,
And sense revives again,
Whilst in my breast,
With cares opprest,
Returning passions reign.

Now starting back
In memory's tract,
My thoughts pursue their way
In hasty view
Once more renew
The business of the day:

Thence wing their course
With rapid force,
Through life's remotest scenes,
And taste again
Each former pain
Or joy that intervenes.

While thus they trace
The vital space,
Through time's obscuring shade,
Past actions seem
Like some fleet dream
In fancy's glass survey'd.

So when the sight,
In Cynthia's light,
Salutes a milder ray,
Yon hills appear
More faint and near,
Than in the blaze of day.

My thoughts now rise
To yonder skies,
Where circling planets roll,
There gaily move,
Through realms above,
And rage without controul.

Now downward steer,
With like career,
To view the pathless deep;
At length they come
Contented home,
And wait th' approach of sleep.

Hail welcome guest-
Thou power of rest.
My downy eye-lids close,
With silent ease,
My senses seize,
And lock me in repose.