Inscription on a Tree in the Centre of a Grove

The Hamadryads, who inform this grove,
Are pure, nor underneath their sheltering boughs
Harbour a thing profane; you they invite,
Ye virtuous Indolent, who scorn to act
In the corrupted scenes of public life,
The friends of heart-felt joy; with open arms
Receive Benevolence; hear the Muse pour
Her artless song well-pleased; and in their shade,
Bid Love's blithe form sport all the summer long.