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Ye visions of the night, farewell!
The orient Morn's impurpled ray
Has chased your airy forms away,
And now with strong immortal hand
She breaks, O Sleep, thy fairy wand,
And melts thy wizard spell.
Yet with impassion'd fond regret
I quit thy shadowy realms, where, brought
Midst Fancy's high and solemn hour,
The Muse invoked thy mystic power
To nurse poetic thought:
Adieu, ye visionary vales!
Far off Night's sullen spirit sails,
The land of shadows, lo, I leave:
Yet shall yon golden lamp of day
More lasting forms more happy scenes display?
Alas! like thine, they quickly pass away,
Like thine, alas! deceive.
SOFT queen of shadows, gentle Sleep,
Once more to thee I pay my vow,
Again I woo thy murmurs deep
To soothe this throbbing breast of mine,
And round my aching temples twine
The grateful foliage of thy cypress bough;
Sweet are thy foldings; when the mind,
Leaving the load of cares behind,
Expatiates 'midst thy visionary reign,
And bathes in slumbers bland the wakeful sense
Sweet are thy foldings, when, to bless
The spirit faint with trials sore,
Thou comest indulgent to restore
Past scenes of shortlived happiness!
When thy fairy fingers dress
The paths where childhood loved to stray;
When Joy with roses strew'd the way,
And Pleasure, nymph of heavenly birth,
Frolick'd blithe: with simple Glee,
Sport, and rose-lipp'd Gaiety,
The family of Mirth!
Where playful at the cottage door,
Or in light gambols on the floor,
Infant groups with daisies crown'd
Frisk'd in many an airy round;
Or, with instinctive aim, began
To mimic, midst their sports, the graver cares of
Scenes of enchantment! ye are fled;
Yet Fancy oft your flight pursues,
While evening shadows dim
O'er earth's pale surface swim,
And eyes your transient forms, and pranks in golden
But most when mortal eyelids close,
Lock'd in Sleep's profound repose,
The' enchantress wakes, and lo, anew
Youth's fairy prospects start to view,
The vernal landscape glows!
Hope relumes her sickly fires,
The bard's ecstatic breast inspires,
Expressing subjects high, and worthy of the Muse.
And oft has Friendship known
The kind relief that Sleep alone,
Soothest of heavenly powers! with opiate touch
Even Love, beneath thy placid reign, [bestows:
In sweet delirium sinks to rest,
Calms the wild tumult of his breast, [chain.
And in thy silken bonds foregoes his ruthless
Say, Sleep, whence o'er the mind
Dost thou such potency derive,
To bid the hosts of Thought,
That with the light of day
In chill oblivion died away,
Again on Memory's plain revive?
That with thy subtle magic fraught,
In many a glittering rank combined,
Reflect the splendours of the mental ray,
And agitate the soul, or tranquillize;
Now with sublimest objects fill,
With Pity touch, with Horror thrill,
And wake respondent sympathies.
Thy colourings, Sleep, deceive
Deliciously the throb of pain,
Bid us live o'er the day again;
With gildings soft the scene relieve,
And heighten into bliss Life's dull realities,
By necromantic groves that glance
Their umbrage dusk to the Phoebean beam,
Where, hung with many a dream,
The twinkling boughs to rosy zephyrs dance; By darksome rocks that lour
O'er the wild brook that bubbles by,
O, often meet my ear
In echoes soft and clear,
Of fairy harps unseen and solemn minstrelsy:
And o'er my soul thy mystic visions pour,
Pure, intellectual; such as, fed
By happiest presage of better days,
Round modest Merit's drooping head
Beam the clear sunshine of ingenuous praise:
Such as the wounded bosom cheer,
Whene'er by cold Neglect depress'd,
Or held by Obloquy in thrall,
Or steep'd in Envy's venom'd gall:
Then, Sleep, thy healing influence bring,
Soft slumbers waft on downy wing,
And breathe the balm divine of visionary rest.
Thus, Sleep, oft let me lie
Beneath thy grateful shadowings: Call around
Every magic sight and sound;
Shifting swift from grave to gay,
Mingling shade or flashing day,
Glance with fairy footsteps by,
And lull each sense in ecstasy!
Oft let the friend of former days
Meet in sweet colloquial talk,
And midst thy moonlight scenes delighted walk,
While on each others face we gaze,
And with congenial warmth our bosoms burn
Of sacred amity; overjoy'd to live
The spring time of our youth again,
To taste the pleasure or the pain,
And with remembrance bland survive
The solitary urn!
Thus, Sleep, oft find me, at thy soft return,
While Philomela pours her minstrelsy;
And to my sight in colours faint
Those future scenes of Beauty paint
Which oft, with foretaste kind, await
On Virtue, in this transient state,
Exhibiting, in vision high,
A weak but rapturous glance of Immortality!
REV. J. WHITEHOUSE.
SWELL the clarion, sweep the string,
Blow into rage the Muse's fires!
All thy answers, Echo, bring,
Let wood and dale, let rock and valley ring: "Tis Madness' self inspires.
Hail, awful Madness, hail!
Thy realm extends, thy powers prevail,
Far as the voyager spreads his venturous sail.
Nor best nor wisest are exempt from thee ;
Folly Folly's only free.
Hark! to the astonish'd ear
The gale conveys a strange tumultuous sound.
They now approach, they now appear,―
Frenzy leads her chorus near,
And demons dance around.—
Pride-Ambition idly vain,
Revenge and Malice swell her train,-
Devotion warp'd-Affection cross'd-
Hope in disappointment lost-
And injured Merit with a downcast eye
(Hurt by neglect) slow stalking heedless by.