Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake,

With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing

Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake

Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring.

This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing

To waft me from distraction; once I loved

Torn Ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring

Sounds sweet as if a Sister's voice reproved,

That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.