Ode to Content

O CHERUB Content! at thy moss-covered shrine
I would all the gay hopes of my bosom resign;
I would part with ambition thy votary to be,
And would breathe not a sigh but to friendship and thee.

But thy presence appears from my homage to fly
Like the gold-coloured cloud on the verge of the sky;
No dewdrop that hangs on the green willow-tree
Is so short as the smile of thy favour to me.

In the pulse of my heart I have nourished a care
Which forbids me thy sweet inspiration to share;
The noon of my youth slow departing I see,
But its years, as they roll, bring no tidings of thee.

I would pay all my vows if Matilda were mine;
If Matilda were mine, whom enraptured I see,
I would breathe not a vow but to friendship and thee!