Classic Poem

Welcome Content ! from roofs of fretted gold,
From Persian sofa's, and the gems of Ind,
From courts, and camps, and crouds,
Fled to my cottage mean!

Meek Virgin, wilt thou deign with me to sit
In pensive pleasure by my glimmering fire,
And with calm smile despise
The loud world's distant din;

As from the piny mountain's topmost cliff,
Some wandering hermit sage hears unconcern'd,
Far in the vale below
The thund'ring torrent burst!

Teach me, good heaven, the gilded chains of vice
To break, to study independent ease,
Pride, pomp, and power to shun,
Those fatal Sirens fair,

That, rob'd like Eastern queens, sit on high thrones,
And beckoning every thirsty traveller,
Their baleful cups present
With pleasing poisons fraught.

O let me dwell in life's low valley, blest
With the dear Nymph I love, true, heart-felt joy,
With chosen friends to turn
The polish'd Attic page;

Nor seldom, if nor Fortune damp my wings,
Nor dire Disease, to soar to P INDUS ' hill,
My hours, my soul devote,
To Poesy and Love!