To WISDOM.

O WISDOM! if thy soft controul
 Can sooth the sickness of the soul,
 Can bid the warring passions cease,
 And breathe the balm of tender peace,
 WISDOM! I bless thy gentle sway,
 And ever, ever will obey. 

But if thou com'st with frown austere
 To nurse the brood of care and fear;
 To bid our sweetest passions die,
 And leave us in their room a sigh;
 Or if thine aspect stern have power
 To wither each poor transient flower,
 That cheers the pilgrimage of woe,
 And dry the springs whence hope should flow;
 WISDOM, thine empire I disclaim,
 Thou empty boast of pompous name! 
In gloomy shade of cloisters dwell,
 But never haunt my chearful cell. 
Hail to pleasure's frolic train;
 Hail to fancy's golden reign;
 Festive mirth, and laughter wild,
 Free and sportful as the child;
 Hope with eager sparkling eyes,
 And easy faith, and fond surprise:
 Let these, in fairy colours drest,
 Forever share my careless breast;
 Then, tho' wise I may not be,
 The wise themselves shall envy me.