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TO A FRIEND IN AFFLICTION, WITH “THE PLEASURES OF HOPE.”
Receive a beauteous Casket, which enfolds
A Gem more rare than all Peruvia holds.
This little Book a wondrous charm contains
For the vast catalogue of human pains:
There's virtue in the Leaves, which you must bind,
With gentlest pressure, on your wounded mind;
And soon o'er every aching sense will creep
A mental slumber, sweet as infant sleep;
A trance will follow, stealing o'er the past;
Then a soft dream, and wak'd by Hope at last:
The Book of Magic, then, dear Suff'rer, take;
Let the Spell work, nor fear that it will break.
A Gem more rare than all Peruvia holds.
This little Book a wondrous charm contains
For the vast catalogue of human pains:
There's virtue in the Leaves, which you must bind,
With gentlest pressure, on your wounded mind;
And soon o'er every aching sense will creep
A mental slumber, sweet as infant sleep;
A trance will follow, stealing o'er the past;
Then a soft dream, and wak'd by Hope at last:
The Book of Magic, then, dear Suff'rer, take;
Let the Spell work, nor fear that it will break.
Ah me! how oft, in deep Misfortune's hour,
When Fortune broke her charm, I've tried its power!
Tried it when Falsehood ill repaid my Truth,
And bore full hard on my disaster'd Youth;
Tried it in life mature, when many a year
My eyes had fill'd with Sorrow's various tear;
When foul Ingratitude,—the crime of Hell,
By which from Heav'n itself the Angels fell;
The poisonous tooth, like some envenomed dart,
Tore, without pity, my believing heart;
E'en then I found Hope's life-restoring beam,
Like soothing visions in a sick man's dream;
The pale cheek tinting with Hope's genial ray,
Begun, once more, like morning-light to play;
Gradual expell'd the darkness of despair,
And the half-doubting Soul subdu'd to pray'r.
When Fortune broke her charm, I've tried its power!
Tried it when Falsehood ill repaid my Truth,
And bore full hard on my disaster'd Youth;
Tried it in life mature, when many a year
My eyes had fill'd with Sorrow's various tear;
When foul Ingratitude,—the crime of Hell,
By which from Heav'n itself the Angels fell;
The poisonous tooth, like some envenomed dart,
Tore, without pity, my believing heart;
E'en then I found Hope's life-restoring beam,
Like soothing visions in a sick man's dream;
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Begun, once more, like morning-light to play;
Gradual expell'd the darkness of despair,
And the half-doubting Soul subdu'd to pray'r.
Oh, Gift of God! blest Hope! e'en now thy smile
May still my latent grief, though sharp, beguile.
I woo thy aid, fair Daughter of the Sky!
To check th'embitter'd drop, and soothe the sigh;
Or bid them both alternate heave and flow
More fast, and give the Lenitives of Woe:
Till, o'er the mist which now thy power enshrouds,
Thy Beams shall rise, as from a World of Clouds;
E'en like the Rainbow Promise to the Soul,
Shall the dread Tide of 'whelming Fate controul.
May still my latent grief, though sharp, beguile.
I woo thy aid, fair Daughter of the Sky!
To check th'embitter'd drop, and soothe the sigh;
Or bid them both alternate heave and flow
More fast, and give the Lenitives of Woe:
Till, o'er the mist which now thy power enshrouds,
Thy Beams shall rise, as from a World of Clouds;
E'en like the Rainbow Promise to the Soul,
Shall the dread Tide of 'whelming Fate controul.
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