Fancy from comfort wanders still astray.
Ah, melancholy! how I feel thy power!
Long have I laboured to elude thy sway!
But 'tis enough, for I resist no more.
The traveller thus, that o'er the midnight waste
Through many a lonesome path is doomed to roam,
Wildered and weary sits him down at last;
For long the night, and distant far his home.
TIRED with the busy crowds, that all the day
Impatient throng where folly's altars flame,
My languid powers dissolve with quick decay,
'Till genial sleep repair the sinking frame.
Hail, kind reviver! that canst lull the cares,
And every weary sense compose to rest,
Lighten th' oppressive load which anguish bears,
And warm with hope the cold desponding breast.
Touched by thy rod, from power's majestic brow
Drops the gay plume; he pines a lowly clown;
And on the cold earth stretched the son of wo
Quaffs pleasure's draught, and wears a fancied
When roused by thee, on boundless pinions borne Fancy to fairy scenes exults to rove,
Now scales the cliff gay-gleaming on the morn,' Now sad and silent treads the deepening grove;
Or skims the main, and listens to the storms,
Marks the long waves roll far remote away; Or mingling with ten thousand glittering forms, Floats on the gale, and basks in purest day.
Haply, ere long, pierced by the howling blast, Through dark and pathless deserts I shall roam, Plunge down th' unfathomed deep, or shrink aghast Where bursts the shrieking spectre from the tomb :
Perhaps loose luxury's enchanting smile
Shall lure my steps to some romantic dale, Where mirth's light freaks th' unheeded hours beguile, And airs of rapture warble in the gale.
Instructive emblem of this mortal state!
Where scenes as various every hour arise
In swift succession, which the hand of fate
Presents, then snatches from our wondering eyes.
Be taught, vain man, how fleeting all thy joys, Thy boasted grandeur, and thy glittering store; Death comes, and all thy fancied bliss destroys, Quick as a dream it fades, and is no more.
And, sons of sorrow! though the threatening storm Of angry fortune overhang awhile,
Let not her frowns your inward peace deform; Soon happier days in happier climes shall smile.
Through earth's thronged visions while we toss forlorn, 'Tis tumult all, and rage, and restless strife;
But these shall vanish like the dreams of morn,
When death awakes us to immortal life.
STILL shall unthinking man substantial deem
The forms that fleet through life's deceitful dream?
Till at some stroke of fate the vision flies,
And sad realities in prospect rise;
And, from elysian slumbers rudely torn,
The startled soul awakes, to think, and mourn.
O ye, whose hours in jocund train advance,
Whose spirits to the song of gladness dance,
Who flowery plains in endless pomp survey,
Glittering in beams of visionary day ;
O, yet while fate delays th' impending wo,
Be roused to thought, anticipate the blow;
Lest, like the lightning's glance, the sudden ill
Flash to confound, and penetrate to kill;
Lest, thus encompassed with funereal gloom,
Like me, ye bend o'er some untimely tomb,
wild ravings in night's frighted ear,
And half pronounce Heaven's sacred doom severe.
Wise, beauteous, good! O every grace combine
That charms the eye, or captivates the mind!
Fresh, as the floweret opening on the morn,
Whose leaves bright drops of liquid pearl adorn!
Sweet, as the downy-pinioned gale, that roves
To gather fragrance in Arabian groves!
Mild, as the melodies at close of day,
That heard remote along the vale decay!
Yet, why with these compared? What tints so fine
What sweetness, mildness, can be matched with thin
Why roam abroad, since recollection true
Restores the lovely form to fancy's view?,
Still let me gaze, and every care beguile,
Gaze on that cheek, where all the graces smile;
That soul expressing eye, benignly bright,
Where meekness beams ineffable delight;
That brow, where wisdom sits enthroned serene,
Each feature forms, and dignifies the mien :
Still let me listen, while her words impart
The sweet effusions of the blameless heart,
'Tis all my soul, each tumult charmed away,
Yields, gently led, to virtue's easy sway.
By thee inspired, O virtue, age is young,
And music warbles from the faltering tongue :
Thy ray creative cheers the clouded brow,
And decks the faded cheek with rosy glow,
Brightens the joyless aspect, and supplies
Pure heavenly lustre to the languid eyes:
But when youth's living bloom reflects thy beams,
Resistless on the view the glory streams,
Love, wonder, joy, alternately alarm,
And beauty dazzles with angelic charm.
Ah whither fled! ye dear illusions stay!
Lo, pale and silent lies the lovely clay.
How are the roses on that cheek decayed,
Which late the purple light of youth displayed!
Health on her form each sprightly grace.bestowed;
With life and thought each speaking feature glowed.
Fair was the blossom, soft the vernal sky;
Elate with hope we deemed no tempest nigh;
When lo, a whirlwind's instantaneous gust
Left all its beauties withering in the dust.
Cold the soft hand, that soothed wo's weary head And quenched the eye, the pitying tear that shed! And mute the voice, whose pleasing accents stole, Infusing balm, into the rankled soul !
O death, why arm with cruelty thy power,
And spare the idle weed, yet lop the flower!
Why fly thy shafts in lawless error driven !
Is virtue then no more the care of Heaven!
peace, bold thought! be still, my bursting heart! We, not ELIZA, felt the fatal dart.
Escaped the dungeon does the slave complain,
Nor bless the friendly hand that broke the chain?
Say, pines not virtue for the lingering morn,
On this dark wild condemned to roam forlorn!
Where reason's meteor-rays, with sickly glow,
O'er the dun gloom a dreadful glimmering throw ;
Disclosing dubious to th' affrighted eye
O'erwhelming mountains tottering from on high,
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