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 | The Works of Thomas Love Peacock |  |
But most to cheer the lover's lonely hours,
Creative Fancy wakes her magic pow'rs;
Most strongly pours, by ardent love refin'd,
Her brightest visions on the youthful mind.
Hence, when at eve with lonely steps I rove
The flow'r-enamell'd plain or dusky grove,
Or press the bank with grassy tufts o'erspread,
Where the brook murmurs o'er its pebbly bed;
Then steals thy form, Rosalia, on my sight,
In artless charms pre-eminently bright:
By Hope inspir'd, my raptur'd thoughts engage
To trace the lines of Fate's mysterious page;
At once in air, the past, the present, fade;
In fairy-tints the future stands display'd;
No clouds arise, no shadows intervene,
To veil or dim the visionary scene.
Creative Fancy wakes her magic pow'rs;
Most strongly pours, by ardent love refin'd,
Her brightest visions on the youthful mind.
Hence, when at eve with lonely steps I rove
The flow'r-enamell'd plain or dusky grove,
Or press the bank with grassy tufts o'erspread,
Where the brook murmurs o'er its pebbly bed;
Then steals thy form, Rosalia, on my sight,
In artless charms pre-eminently bright:
By Hope inspir'd, my raptur'd thoughts engage
To trace the lines of Fate's mysterious page;
At once in air, the past, the present, fade;
In fairy-tints the future stands display'd;
No clouds arise, no shadows intervene,
To veil or dim the visionary scene.
| The Works of Thomas Love Peacock | |