The shepherd with his weary sheepSeeks out the streamlet and the trees,Silvanus' lair: the still banks sleepUntroubled by the wandering breeze.You ponder on imperial schemes,And o'er the city's danger brood:Bactrian and Serian haunt your dreams,And Tanais, toss'd by inward feud.The issue of the time to beHeaven wisely hides in blackest night,And laughs, should man's anxietyTransgress the bounds of man's short sight.Control the present: all besideFlows like a river seaward borne,Now rolling on its placid tide,Now whirling massy trunks uptorn,And waveworn crags, and farms, and stock,In chaos blent, while hill and woodReverberate to the enormous shock,When savage rains the tranquil flood