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Ode on Solitude

Happy the man, whose wish and care
--A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
------------------In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
--Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
------------------In winter fire.

Blest, who can unconcernedly find
--Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
------------------Quiet by day,

Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
--Together mixed; sweet recreation;
And innocence, which most does please,
------------------With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
--Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
------------------Tell where I lie.

-Alexander Pope, 1700

Ode XIV to Solitude

Thou, that at deep dead of night
Walk'st forth beneath the pale moon's light,
In robe of flowing black array'd,
While cypress-leaves thy brows o'ershade;
List'ning to the crowing cock,
And the distant-sounding clock;
Or sitting in thy cavern low,
Do'st hear the bleak winds loudly blow,
Or the hoarse death-boding owl,
Or village maistiff's wakeful howl,
While through thy melancholy room
A dim lamp casts an awful gloom;
Thou, that on the meadow green,
Or daisy'd upland art not seen,
But wand'ring by the dusky nooks,
And the pensive-falling brooks,
Or near some rugged, herbless rock,
Where no shepherd keeps his flock!
Musing maid, to thee I come,
Hating the tradeful city's hum;
O let me calmly dwell with thee,
From noisy mirth and bus'ness free,
With meditation seek the skies,
This folly-fetter'd world despise!

-Joseph Warton, 1746