 | American poems, selected and original |  |
182
INVOCATION TO HOPE.
BY THE SAME.
Soother of Life! by whose delusive charm
This feeling heart resists the pointed woe,
Whose magic power, with fancied joys can warm,
And wipe the tear which Anguish taught to flow;
This feeling heart resists the pointed woe,
Whose magic power, with fancied joys can warm,
And wipe the tear which Anguish taught to flow;
If, thro' the varied griefs my Youth has known,
No charm but these could raise my votive eye;
O leave me not, now every blessing's flown,
Whilst my sad bosom heaves the lengthen'd sigh.
No charm but these could raise my votive eye;
O leave me not, now every blessing's flown,
Whilst my sad bosom heaves the lengthen'd sigh.
The grated prison, and the lov'd-form'd bower,
The wretch, whom Disappointment wastes away,
The frugal hut, the gilded dome of power,
Joy in thy smiles and court thy equal sway.
The wretch, whom Disappointment wastes away,
The frugal hut, the gilded dome of power,
Joy in thy smiles and court thy equal sway.
By thee, the friendless sufferer learns to bear;
By thee, the patient heart forgets its woe;
Thou mak'st Misfortune's iron aspect fair,
And e'en the frozen cheek of Misery glow.
By thee, the patient heart forgets its woe;
Thou mak'st Misfortune's iron aspect fair,
And e'en the frozen cheek of Misery glow.
Leave me no more, as on that fated morn
When my rash soul the impious deed design'd,
And when, unconscious of thy blest return,
The foe Despair usurp'd my tortur'd mind.
When my rash soul the impious deed design'd,
And when, unconscious of thy blest return,
The foe Despair usurp'd my tortur'd mind.
But yet, bright Goddess! with deceptive smile,
Come, and a host of Fictions in thy train,
With dreams of peace my wearied heart beguile,
And sink in fancied bliss the real pain.
Come, and a host of Fictions in thy train,
With dreams of peace my wearied heart beguile,
And sink in fancied bliss the real pain.
| American poems, selected and original | |