THE CONTENTED PHILOSOPHER. Peter Cunningham Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1136 K093079.003 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. III. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 82-86. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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THE CONTENTED PHILOSOPHER . BY THE SAME . DEEP silence reign'd , and dewy Night Her silver vestment wore ; The western gale breath'd calm delight , And busy day was o'er . To hail Reflection's hour I rose , Each throbbing care at rest ; For sacred peace in mild repose , Had lull'd my anxious breast . The breezy mount , the misty vale , Alternately I stray'd ; The Gothic spire , the lonely cell , My wandering eye survey'd : 'Till , where the trembling beams of night O'er limpid currents play'd , Meandering — fix'd my roving sight On deep Retirement's shade . The unambitious dome conceal'd , Fear'd no intrusive foes ; From deep-embowering trees reveal'd The seat of calm repose . 'Twas Sophron's grove , an aged sire , Who vers'd in Wisdom's lore , Now tun'd his consecrated lyre , To close the silent hour . The hallowed strain inflam'd my breast , I gain'd the rustic cell ; The courteous father bless'd his guest , Then gave th' instructive tale . " How false the aim of erring life ! How fruitless the employ ! That treads the pompous maze of strife , In quest of solid joy ! The plumy tribes unceasing roam , Each verdant bough survey ; But fix at last their leafy home , Where Silence wooes their stay : Where no alarming hinds invade , No fear their peace destroys , Remote in the sequester'd shade , They rear their callow joys . Thus restless Nature loves to range , Thro' life's gay scenes to rove ; 'Till Reason prompts the happier change , To Contemplation's grove ! When Fortune smil'd , when Pleasure woo'd , How indolently gay ! Life's transitory stream I view'd Unheeded waste away . The gay delusive dream once o'er , Calm Reason's thoughts arise ; Obey'd the monitorial power , That whisper'd , " Now be wise . " This silent grove my search survey'd , Where Peace displays her charms , How free Contentment's humble shade From Fortune's wild alarms . Now free from each fantastic strife , Untroubled and serene , I wait the closing hour of life , To leave its empty scene . For tides of blifs that boundless roll , Around th' eternal throne , Shall waft the persevering soul To joys , on earth unknown . " But lo ! the fading stars declare , The eastern herald blows , " The hour of rosy morn is near , " And Nature claims repose . " I sigh'd , and thought it soon to part From Wisdom's ivyed cell , How ill my sympathizing heart Could bid the Sage — " Farewell . " For wealth , be smiling Peace my share ! With Friendship's generous love ; And lost to each ambitious care , Be mine the flowery grove ! There studious thought would wear the day , In each instructive page ; Or happier , speed the hours away , In converse with the Sage . Taught by the awful voice of Truth , Life's syren snares to fly , By Reason's card conduct my youth , And like my Sophron die !