Here may he rest, who, shunning scenes of strife,
Enjoy’d at Dronningaard a Hermit’s life:
The faithless splendour of a court he knew,
And all the ardour of the tented field,
Soft Passion’s idler charm, not less untrue,
And all that listless Luxury can yield.
He tasted, tender Love! thy chatter sweet;
Thy promis’d happiness prov’d mere deceit.
To Hymen’s hallow’d fane by Reason led,
He deem’d the path he trod the path of bliss;
Oh! ever-mourn’d mistake! from int’rest bred,
Its dupe was plung’d in misery’s abyss:
But Friendship offer’d him, benignant pow’r!
Her cheering hand, in trouble’s darkest hour:
Beside this shaded stream, her soothing voice
Bade the disconsolate again rejoice:
Peace in his heart revives, serenely sweet;
The calm content, so sought for as his choice,
Quits him no more in this belov’d retreat.