From glaring shew, and giddy noise

FROM glaring shew, and giddy noise,
The pleasures of the vain,
Take me, ye soft, ye silent joys,
To your retreats again.

Be mine, ye cool, ye peaceful groves,
Whose shades to love belong;
Where Echo, as she fondly roves,
Repeats my STELLA'S song.

Ah, STELLA! why should I depart
From solitude and thee,
When in that solitude thou art
A perfect world to me!