Текст оригинала на английском языке
O WISDOM! if thy soft controul Can sooth the sickness of the soul, Can bid the warring passions cease, And breathe the balm of tender peace, WISDOM! I bless thy gentle sway, And ever, ever will obey. But if thou com'st with frown austere To nurse the brood of care and fear; To bid our sweetest passions die, And leave us in their room a sigh; Of if thine aspect stern have power To wither each poor transient flower, That cheers the pilgrimage of woe, And dry the springs whence hope should flow; WISDOM, thine empire I disclaim, Thou empty boast of pompous name! In gloomy shade of cloisters dwell, But never haunt my chearful cell. Hail to pleasure's frolic train; Hail to fancy's golden reign; Festive mirth, and laughter wild, Free and sportful as the child; Hope with eager sparkling eyes, And easy faith, and fond surprise: Let these, in fairy colours drest, Forever share my careless breast; Then, tho' wise I may not be, The wise themselves shall envy me.
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