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The lay of an Irish harp

or metrical fragments. By Miss Owenson

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FRAGMENT XIII. FANCY.
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58

FRAGMENT XIII. FANCY.

I

Oh thou! who late with glowing fingers wreath'd
Around my youthful brow thy blooming flow'rs,
Sweet Fancy! thou who late so warmly breath'd
Thy frolic spirit o'er my careless hours:

II

Was it by thought or study thou wert banish'd?
Did care or sorrow chill thy vital glow?
That from so young a mind thy dreams are vanish'd,
That droops thy wild wreath round so young a brow.

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III

Why fade thy fairy visions on my view
(And every spell that cheer'd my sinking heart)?
Why change thy iris-tints to sablest hue?
Why latent sleeps thy gay creative art?

IV

Oh come! but come not as thou late wert wont,
With faded blush, and matted locks unbound,
Chasing my foot-steps in each dreary haunt,
And scatt'ring rue and deadly night-shade round.

V

But come with kindling blush and sunny tress,
The tear of rapture gleaming in thine eye;
Thy lip (where revel'd many a fond caress!)
Thy ruby lip, exhaling transport's sigh.

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VI

Thy glance reviving every faded flow'r,
The young loves sporting in thy frolic train,
And many a fairy joy and smiling hour,
Chasing in rosy groups Despair and Pain.

VII

Oh! thus return, thou source of all my pleasures,
And though bereft of all but Hope and thee,
Yet they who count as theirs exhaustless treasures,
And empires sway, perhaps might envy me.