Lost in the wonders of your Eastern clime,
Or rapt in vision to some unborn time,
Th' unartful tale might no attention gain;
For Friendship knows not, like the Muse, to feign.
Forgive her, then, if in this weak essay
She tries to emulate thy daring lay,
And give to truth and warm affection's glow
The charms that from the tuneful sisters flow.

On this blest morning's most auspicious rise,
Which finds thee circled with domestic joys,
May thy glad heart its grateful tribute pay
To Him who shaped thy course and smoothed thy way--
That guardian Power, who, to thy merit kind,
Bestowed the bliss most suited to thy mind--
Retirement, friendship, leisure, learned ease,
All that the philosophic mind can please;
All that the Muses love, th' harmonious nine,
Inspire thy lays, and aid the great design.
But more than all the world could else bestow,
All pleasures that from fame or fortune flow,
To fix secure in bliss thy future life,
Heaven crowned thy blessings with a lovely wife--
Wise, gentle, good, with every grace combined
That charms the sense or captivates the mind;
Skilled every soft emotion to improve,
The joy of friendship, and the wish of love;
To soothe the heart which pale Misfortune's train
Invades with grief or agonizing pain;
To point through devious paths the narrow road