When midnight listens o'er the slumb'ring earth,
Let me, O Muse, thy solemn whispers hear:
When morning sends her fragrant breezes forth,
With airy murmurs touch my opening ear.
And ever watchful at thy side,
Let Wisdom's awful suffrage guide
The tenour of thy lay:
To her of old by JOVE was giv'n
To judge the various deeds of earth and heay'n;
'Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway.