William Hayley

Imoinda, "Stanzas occasion'd by reading the Triumphs of Temper, a Poem by Mr. Hayley" Town and Country Magazine 14 (August 1782) 437.

Divine Sophrosyne! whose power
Can passion's fiery heat controul;
Can smooth the rough perplexing hour,
And calm the tempest of the soul!

Assist me with thy skill divine,
Oh! bless me by thy magic art,
Soothe every passion fell, malign,
And tranquillize my happy heart.

And erst, as tuneful Hayley sung,
When thou badst string the pleasing lyre;
(At thy command the lyre he strung,
And warbled with poetic fire.)

As then, to sweet Serena kind,
So kind, oh! goddess, prove to me,
Oh! deign to harmonize my mind,
And keep it still from tumults free.

O'er her soft breast thy friendly hand
The mystic ribbon bound with care;
And kind, endu'd the shining band,
With pow'r to calm each passion there.

So, goddess, deign for me to weave
The potent bandage, which shall be,
As it will ev'ry care relieve,
A valu'd relic still to me.

For oft, unruly in my breast,
Foul passions rise above controul,
Chase from my mind delightful rest,
And drive sweet quiet from my soul.

Thy friendly hand relief could bring,
Refuse not the desir'd request;
Then would I still with pleasure sing
The kind restorer of my rest.

Divine Sophrosyne! oh hear,
Tho' at thy shrine so lately sung
A bard, whose numbers full and clear,
Flow in soft cadence from the tongue.

Tho' my rude strain offend thy ear,
And in unworthy numbers flows,
Oh! condescend my pray'r to hear,
And give me my desir'd repose.

Oh! let not madding anger's storm,
More in my breast a rough war wage,
Nor peevishness its peace deform,
But thy soft pow'r my heart engage.

With thee replete, mild joy shall shed
Her brightest smiles upon my face;
O'er my glad looks new pleasure spread,
And fill my eye with vivid grace.