Classic Poem

TO FANCY.

Oh Thou! whose empire unconfin'd
Rules all the busy realms of Mind!
The slow-eyed Cares thy mild dominion
Confess, if thou thy rod extend,
No more the sharp fang'd sorrows rend,
But 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 liste'ning vale,
In liquid warbles fondly-flowing,
Laments the' enamoured Nightingale.

In softly-pleasing light the Queen
Of Heave'n 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 lip 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 show.

Like mine, her bosom now may feel
The tender melancholy steal,
Tho' maiden modesty dissemble;
And now while Memory brings again
The Muse which 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.

Ah! still, tho' whisper'd to deceive,
Let me thy flatteries, Hope, believe,
Content from grief one hour to borrow!
Ah! still, if o'er my distant way,
As through the path of life I stray,
Hang gathering clouds of future sorrow,
O Fancy! gild them with thy ray!