Sweet Solitude, thou placid queen,

Of modest air and brow serene,

'Tis thou inspir'st the poet's themes,

Wrap'd in soft visionary dreams.

   Parent of Virtue, nurse of thought,

By thee were Saints and Patriarchs taught.

Wisdom from thee her treasures drew,

And in thy lap fair Science grew.

   Whate'er exalts, refines and charms,

Invites to thought, to virtue warms,

Whate'er is perfect, fair and good,

We owe to thee, sweet Solitude.

   In these blest shades thou dost maintain

Thy peaceful unmolested reign;

No turbulent desires intrude

On thy repose sweet Solitude.

   With thee the charm of life shall last,

E'vn when its rosy bloom is past,

And when slow-pacing Time shall spread

Its silver blossoms o'er my head:

   No more with this vain world perplex'd,

Thou shalt prepare me for the nest;

The springs of life shall gently ease,

And Angels point the way to peace.