O banish from this peaceful plain
The perjur'd nymph, the faithless swain,
The stubborn heart, that scorns to bow
And harsh rejects the honest vow:
The fop, who wounds the virgin's ear,
With aught that sense would blush to hear,
Or, false to honour, mean and vain,
Defames the worth he cannot stain:
The light conquet, with various art,
Who casts her net for every heart,
And smiling slatters to the chace
Alike the worthy and the base:
The dame, who, proud of virtue's praise,
Is happy if a sister strays,
And, conscious of unclouded fame,
Delighted, spreads the tale of shame:
But far, O! banish'd far be they,
Who hear unmov'd the orphan's cry,
Who see, nor wish to wipe away
The tear that swells the widow's eye;
The unloving man, whose narrow mind
Disdains to feel for human-kind,
At others' bliss whose cheek ne'er glows,
Whose breast ne'er throbs with others' woes,
Whose hoarded sum of private joys
His private care alone destroys;
Ye fairies cast your spells around,
And guard from such this hallow'd ground!