RETIREMENT: AN ODE by THOMAS WARTON THE ELDER

I.
ON Beds of Daisies idly laid,
The Willow waving o'er my Head,
Now Morning on the bending Stem,
Hangs the round, and glittering Gem,
Lull'd by the Lapse of yonder Spring,
Of Nature's various Charms I sing:
Ambition, Pride, and Pomp adieu!
For what has @3Joy@1 to do with You?

II.
@3Joy,@1 rose-lipt Dryad loves to dwell
In sunny Field, or mossy Cell,
Delights on echoing Hills to hear
The Reaper's Song, or lowing Steer;
Or view with tenfold Plenty spread
The crowded Corn-field, blooming Mead;
While Beauty, Health, and Innocence
Transport the Eye, the Soul, the Sense.

III.
Not fresco'd Roofs, not Beds of State,
Not Guards that round a Monarch wait,
Not Crowds of Flatterers can scare
From loftiest Courts intruding Care:
Midst Odours, Splendors, Banquets, Wine,
While Minstrels sound, while Tapers shine,
In Sable stole sad @3Care@1 will come,
And darken the gay Drawing-room.

IV.
Nymphs of the Groves, in green array'd,
Conduct me to your thickest Shade,
Deep in the Bosom of the Vale,
Where haunts the lonesome Nightingale,
Where @3Contemplation,@1 Maid divine,
Leans against some aged Pine,
Wrapt in stedfast Thought profound,
Her Eyes fixt stedfast on the Ground.

V.
O Virtue's Nurse! retired Queen,
By Saints alone and Hermits seen,
Beyond vain Mortals' Wishes wise,
Teach me @3St. James@1's to despise;
For what are crowded Courts, but Schools
For Fops, or Hospitals for Fools?
Where Slaves and Madmen, Young and Old,
Meet to adore some Calf of Gold.

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