Oh ye wild Powers of Fancy! from whom springs
Whate'er of rapture or of bliss adorns
The bloom of youth; ye whose ambrosial wings
Shower down life's blessings, but withhold its thorns,
Still may your dear illusions o'er my soul
Their soothing empire hold, still o'er the course
Of each fine nerve in quick vibrations roll,
And tinge each young idea in its source.
What though cold Apathy would curb your sway,
Would chase your sweet delirium from my breast;
Still may that breast your soft controul obey,
Still in your visionary flights be blest.
Let others boast their bosoms never knew
The phantasies with which your thraldom teems;
Let others their unvaried course pursue;
For me....my heart your sway a blessing deems.
Oft has your influence led, my feet have strayed
Through dells enlightened by the moon's pale beam,
Have sought the silence of the pathless glade,
The vaulted rock, or long-resounding stream.
Then would the murmurs of the passing wind,
That breathed, soft sighing, through the rustling sprays,
Create strange feelings in my melting mind,
And lead my ravished thoughts through many a maze.
Then would the cataract's impetuous sound
Exalt my soul, as down its rifted bed
It drove unceasing, and my feet would bound,
As if upborn by wings, with loftier tread.
Sweet were ye, dreams of Fancy, when my soul
First felt the bosom-spring of young desire,
When first Love's dear enchantment o'er me stole,
And every pulse confessed his thrilling fire.
Then first did Hope unveil her laughing eyes,
And promise sunshine to my future years;
But ah! with Hope came mingled tears, and sighs,
And fond anxieties, and chilling fears.
Then Love was all to me; all nature round
Seemed full of Love; in every leaf and flower
Something congenial with his flame I found,
Some apt memorial of his wide-spread power.
Oft as I shunned the busy haunts of care,
And roamed through glens and forest-glooms, each sound
That floated buoyant on the wings of air
Within my breast an answering echo found.
And now, while undiminished through my frame
Glows the fierce fire, and burns in every pore,
Still join your genial influence to the flame,
And add some new-born charm unknown before.
“Oh ye wild Powers of Fancy! from whom springs
Whate'er of rapture or of bliss adorns
The bloom of youth, ye whose ambrosial wings
Shower down life's blessings, but withhold its thorns,
Let others boast their bosoms never knew
The phantasies with which your thraldom teems,
Let others their unvaried course pursue;
For me....my heart your sway a blessing deems.”
Whate'er of rapture or of bliss adorns
The bloom of youth; ye whose ambrosial wings
Shower down life's blessings, but withhold its thorns,
Still may your dear illusions o'er my soul
Their soothing empire hold, still o'er the course
Of each fine nerve in quick vibrations roll,
And tinge each young idea in its source.
What though cold Apathy would curb your sway,
Would chase your sweet delirium from my breast;
Still may that breast your soft controul obey,
Still in your visionary flights be blest.
Let others boast their bosoms never knew
The phantasies with which your thraldom teems;
Let others their unvaried course pursue;
For me....my heart your sway a blessing deems.
Oft has your influence led, my feet have strayed
Through dells enlightened by the moon's pale beam,
Have sought the silence of the pathless glade,
The vaulted rock, or long-resounding stream.
Then would the murmurs of the passing wind,
That breathed, soft sighing, through the rustling sprays,
Create strange feelings in my melting mind,
And lead my ravished thoughts through many a maze.
Then would the cataract's impetuous sound
Exalt my soul, as down its rifted bed
It drove unceasing, and my feet would bound,
As if upborn by wings, with loftier tread.
Sweet were ye, dreams of Fancy, when my soul
First felt the bosom-spring of young desire,
When first Love's dear enchantment o'er me stole,
And every pulse confessed his thrilling fire.
Then first did Hope unveil her laughing eyes,
And promise sunshine to my future years;
But ah! with Hope came mingled tears, and sighs,
And fond anxieties, and chilling fears.
Then Love was all to me; all nature round
Seemed full of Love; in every leaf and flower
Something congenial with his flame I found,
Some apt memorial of his wide-spread power.
Oft as I shunned the busy haunts of care,
And roamed through glens and forest-glooms, each sound
That floated buoyant on the wings of air
Within my breast an answering echo found.
And now, while undiminished through my frame
Glows the fierce fire, and burns in every pore,
Still join your genial influence to the flame,
And add some new-born charm unknown before.
“Oh ye wild Powers of Fancy! from whom springs
Whate'er of rapture or of bliss adorns
The bloom of youth, ye whose ambrosial wings
Shower down life's blessings, but withhold its thorns,
Let others boast their bosoms never knew
The phantasies with which your thraldom teems,
Let others their unvaried course pursue;
For me....my heart your sway a blessing deems.”