Hail! thou soft soother of my woes,
Friend to delight, and calm repose!
With thee, my happiest hours are spent,
Free from dull care, and discontent;
Unknown to folly's giddy train,
Whose revelry's the source of pain.

If absent from the friend sincere,
Or her this bosom still holds dear;
If by feign'd love, false friendship cross'd;
If by misfortune tempest toss'd;
Tho' hope her flattering aid denies,
With thee, soon sorrow from me flies.

The martial trumpet sounds to arms,
And tells of battle's dire alarms;
To fancy's ear, it echoes plain,
Of towns destroy'd, of brothers slain:
But thine are notes of peace and love,
Soft as the warblings of the grove.

Hail, pleasing Pipe! by man design'd
To ease, to harmonize the mind:
With joy, I turn to youth's gay hour,
When first I felt thy soothing pow'r;
And oft when toss'd on life's rough sea,
Thy sounds are dearest then to me!