Ode to Ease

I never bent at glory's shrine;
To wealth I never bow'd the knee;
Beauty has heard no vows of mine;
I love thee, Ease, and only thee;
Beloved of the gods and men,
Sister of joy and liberty,
When wilt thou visit me again;
In shady wood, or silent glen,
By falling stream, or rocky den,
Like those where once I found thee, when,
Despite the ills of poverty,
And wisdom's warning prophecy,
I listened to thy siren voice,
And made thee mistress of my choice!
I chose thee, Ease! and glory fled;
For me no more her laurels spread;
Her golden crown shall never shed
Its beams of splendor on my head.
And when within the narrow bed,
To fame and memory ever dead,
My senseless corpse is thrown,
Nor stately column, sculptured bust,
Nor urn that holde within its trust
The poor remains of mortal dust,
Nor monumental stone.
Nor willow, waving in the gale,
Nor feeble fence, with whiten'd pale,
Nor rustic cross, memorial frail,
Shall mark the grave I own.
No lofty deeds in armor wrought;
No hidden truths in science taught;
No undiscover'd regions sought;
No classic page, with learning fraught,
Nor eloquence, nor verse divine,
Nor daring speech, nor high design,
Nor patriotic act of mine
On history's page shall ever shine:
But, all to future ages lost,
Nor even a wreck, tradition toss'd,
Of what I was when valued most
By the few friends whose love I boast,
In after years shall float to shore,
And serve to tell the name I bore.
I chose thee, Ease! and Wealth withdrew,
Indignant at the choice I made,
And, to her first resentment true,
My scorn with tenfold scorn repaid.
Now, noble palace, lofty dome,
Or cheerful, hospitable home,
Are comforts I must never know:
My enemies shall ne'er repine
At pomp or pageantry of mine,
Nor prove, by bowing at my shrine,
Their souls are abject, base, and low.
No wondering crowd shall ever stand
With gazing eye and waving hand,
To mark my train, and pomp, and show:
And, worst of all, I shall not live
To taste the pleasures Wealth can give,
When used to soothe another's wo.
The peasants of my native land
Shall never bless my open hand;
No wandering bard shall celebrate
His patron's hospitable gate:
No war-worn soldier, shatter'd tar,
Nor exile driven from afar,
Nor hapless friend of former years,
Nor widow's prayers, nor orphan's tears,
Nor helpless age relieved from cares,
Nor innocence preserved from snares,
Nor houseless wanderer clothed and fed,
Nor slave from bitter bondage led,
Nor youth to noble actions bred,
Shall call down blessings on my head.
I chose thee, Ease! and yet the while,
So sweet was Beauty's scornful smile,
So fraught with every lovely wile,
Yet seemingly so void of guile,
It did but heighten all her charms;
And, goddess, had I loved thee then
But with the common love of men,
My fickle heart had changed agen,
Even at the very moment when
I woo'd thee to my longing arms:
For never may I'hope to meet
A smile so sweet, so heavenly sweet.
I chose thee, Ease! and now for me
No heart shall ever fondly swell,
No voice of rapturous harmony
Awake the music-breathing shell;
Nor tongue, or witching melody
Its love in faltering accents tell;
Nor flushing cheek, nor languid eye,
Nor sportive smile, nor artless sigh,
Confess affection all as well.
No snowy bosom's fall and rise
Shall e'er again enchant my eyes;
No melting lips, profuse of bliss,
Shall ever greet me with a kiss;
Nor balmy breath pour in my ear
The trifles Love delights to hear:
But, living, loveless, hopeless, I
Unmourned and unloved must die.
I chose thee, Ease! and yet to me
Coy and ungrateful thou hast proved;
Though I have sacrificed to thee
Much that was worthy to be loved.
But come again, and I will yet
Thy past ingratitude forget:
O! come again! thy witching powers
Shall claim my solitary hours:
With thee to cheer me, heavenly queen,
And conscience clear, and health serene,
And friends, and books, to banish spleen,
My life should be, as it had been,
A sweet variety of joys;
And Glory's crown, and Beauty's smile,
And treasured hoards should seem the while
The idlest of all human toys.