 | Poetical remains (1872) |  |
ODE VII. To Fancy.
A PRIZE AT LADY MILLAR'S.
O thou whose empire unconfined
Rules all the busy realms of mind,
The slow-eyed cares thy mild dominion
Confess;—if thou thy rod extend,
No more the sharp-fanged sorrows rend,
While hovering round on frolic pinion
The laughing train of Joys descend.
Rules all the busy realms of mind,
The slow-eyed cares thy mild dominion
Confess;—if thou thy rod extend,
No more the sharp-fanged sorrows rend,
While hovering round on frolic pinion
The laughing train of Joys descend.
To soothe the woes of absent Love,
Come, Fancy, now what time above
The full-orb'd moon, that rose all glowing,
Begins her lifted lamp to pale;
What time, to charm the listening vale,
In liquid measures fondly flowing,
Laments the enamoured nightingale.
Come, Fancy, now what time above
The full-orb'd moon, that rose all glowing,
Begins her lifted lamp to pale;
What time, to charm the listening vale,
In liquid measures fondly flowing,
Laments the enamoured nightingale.
94
In softly-pleasing light the Queen
Of heaven arrays the blue serene;
Yet lovelier beams the gentle glory
In Anna's azure eyes displayed.
Sweet is the Poet of the shade,
Yet sweeter than his warbled story.
Each sound from Anna's lips conveyed.
Of heaven arrays the blue serene;
Yet lovelier beams the gentle glory
In Anna's azure eyes displayed.
Sweet is the Poet of the shade,
Yet sweeter than his warbled story.
Each sound from Anna's lips conveyed.
Nor haply shall I ever find
That tongue to me alone unkind,
On every grief but mine so ready
To bid the balm of comfort flow;
Nor shall that eye, which every woe
But mine can melt, thus ever steady,
To me alone no pity shew.
That tongue to me alone unkind,
On every grief but mine so ready
To bid the balm of comfort flow;
Nor shall that eye, which every woe
But mine can melt, thus ever steady,
To me alone no pity shew.
Like mine, her bosom now can feel
The tender melancholy steal,
Tho' maiden modesty dissemble;
And now while memory brings again
The muse that first revealed my pain,
The involuntary tear may tremble,
And own the triumph of the strain.
The tender melancholy steal,
Tho' maiden modesty dissemble;
And now while memory brings again
The muse that first revealed my pain,
The involuntary tear may tremble,
And own the triumph of the strain.
So whispers Hope. By Fancy led
She comes. With rosy wreaths her head,
With rosy wreaths her sacred anchor,
Love intertwines in vain employ:
For lo! behind the exulting boy,
With stifled smiles of patient rancour,
Creeps Mockery, watchful to destroy.
She comes. With rosy wreaths her head,
95
Love intertwines in vain employ:
For lo! behind the exulting boy,
With stifled smiles of patient rancour,
Creeps Mockery, watchful to destroy.
Ah! still, tho' whispered to deceive,
Thy flatteries, Hope, let me believe;
Content from grief one hour to borrow:
Ah! still, if round my distant way,
As thro' the path of life I stray,
Hang gathering clouds of future sorrow;
O Fancy! gild them with thy ray.
Thy flatteries, Hope, let me believe;
Content from grief one hour to borrow:
Ah! still, if round my distant way,
As thro' the path of life I stray,
Hang gathering clouds of future sorrow;
O Fancy! gild them with thy ray.
| Poetical remains (1872) | |