Original - Duke Divinity School

On Retirement 149
Bear me, ye friendly Pow’rs, to peaceful Scenes,
To shady Bow’rs, and never-fading Greens!
Where the shrill Trumpet never sounds Alarms,
Nor martial Din is heard, nor Clash of Arms.
Unenvied may your Laurels ever grow
That never flourish but in Human woe;
If never Earth the Wreath Triumpal bears
Till drenched in Heroes’ Blood and Orphan Tears. 150
Hail ye soft Seats! ye limpid Springs and Floods!
Ye flow’ry Meads, ye Vales, and mazy Woods!
Ye limpid Floods, that ever murmuring flow!
Ye verdant Meads, where Flow’rs eternal blow!
Ye shady Vales, where Zephyrs ever play!
Ye Woods, where little Warblers tune their Lay!
Here grant me, Heav’n, to end my peaceful days,
And steal myself from Life by slow Decays;
With Age unknown to Pain, or Sorrow blest,
To the dark Grave retiring as to Rest.
While gently with one Sigh this mortal Frame
Dissolving turns to Ashes whence it came,
While my freed Soul departs without a Groan,
And joyful, wings her flight to Worlds unknown.
Ye gloomy Grots! ye awful solemn Cells,
Where holy pensive Contemplation dwells,
Guard me from splendid Cares and tiresome State,
That pompous Misery of being Great!
Content with Ease, ambitious to despise
Illustrious Vanity, and glorious Vice!
149Broome, “The Seat of War in Flanders,” Poems, 66–76 (Wesley excerpts pp. 71–75). Wesley published
in Arminian Magazine 1 (1778): 284–85.
150 Wesley brought the last four lines forward from page 75 and inserted here.
93