FRAGMENT XXXVII.
JOY.
“Joy's a fix'd state—a tenure, not a start.”
Young.
I
“Joy a fix'd state—a tenure, not a start!”
Whence came that thought, sublime and pensive sage?
Did Joy e'er play upon thy grief-chill'd heart,
Or flash its warm beam o'er the life's sad page?
II
And felt'st thou not 'twas but a start indeed,
A rainbow lustre o'er the clouds of care;
Of many an anxious hope the golden meed,
The bright, tho' transient heaven of despair?
III
Oh Joy, I know thee well! and in that hour
Which gave me to the dearest father's arms,
(Arms long unfill'd by me) have felt thy pow'r
Sweetly dispelling absence' fond alarms.
IV
And I have felt thy evanescent gleam
Illume the vision youthful fancy brought;
Have known thee in my slumbers' rosy dream
Give many a bliss I (waking) vainly sought.
V
From thee what sweet truths would cold Reason borrow,
Whilst thou (tumultuous in thy reign) would chase
Each gloomy phantom of my bosom's sorrow,
And send thy sunny spirits in their place.
VI
Wild, warm, and tender, was thy witching hour,
Delight's wild throb, and rapture's tear was thine,
And every feeling own'd thy melting pow'r;
Oh! such at least thou wert, when thou wert mine.
VII
Transient indeed, as young spring's iris sky,
And ever fleetest in thy dearest bliss;
Chas'd by a doubt, a frown, a tear, a sigh;
Lured by a glance, a thought, a smile, a kiss.
VIII
Yet though so fleeting in thy poignant pleasure,
Though thy brief span is scarce a raptured hour,
Though still least palpable thy richest treasure,
Though as we cull, still fades thy sweetest flow'r;
IX
Yet come! delicious Joy! ere yet the chill
Of age repels thy influence o'er my heart,
While yet each sense responsive meets thy thrill,
Oh come! delicious Joy! all transient as thou art!
