And join with thee, calm Peace and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet.

Forget thyself to marble.

And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.

And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.

A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air; And, deepening still the dreamlike charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.

There is in stillness oft a magic power To calm the breast when struggling passions lower, Touched by its influence, in the soul arise Diviner feelings, kindre…

No trumpet-blast profound the hour in which the Prince of Peace was born; No bloody streamlet stained Earth's silver rivers on the sacred morn.