ODE TO HOPE. I. 1. THOU, who glad'st the pensive soul, More than Aurora's smile the swain forlorn, Left all night long to mourn Where desolation frowns, and tempests howl; Far o'er the monstrous wilderness resound, And cross the gloom darts many a shapeless form, And many a fire-eyed visage glares around. O come, and be once more my guest: Come, for thou oft thy suppliant's vow hast heard, And oft with smiles indulgent chear'd And sooth'd him into rest. I. 2. Smit by thy rapture-beaming eye Deep flashing thro' the midnight of their mind, The sable bands combin'd, Where Fear's black banner bloats the troubled sky, G Appall'd retire. Suspicion hides her head, With speed unwonted Indolence upsprings, I. 3. Ten thousand forms, by pining Fancy view'd, When Phoebus rears his awful brow, The troops of fen-born mists retire. Along the plain The joyous swain Eyes the gay villages again, And gold illumin'd spire; While on the billowy ether borne And light along the fairy Pleasure, Wantons on silken wing. And goblins all Shoot to the desart realms of their congenial Night. II. 1. When first on Childhood's eager gaze Life's varied landscape, stretch'd immense around, Starts out of night profound, Thy voice incites to tempt th' untrodden maze. II. 2. Pursue thy pleasurable way, Safe in the guidance of thy heavenly guard, While melting airs are heard And soft-ey'd cherub forms around thee play: Simplicity, in careless flowers array'd, Prattling amusive in his accent meek; And Modesty, half turning as afraid, The smile just dimpling on his glowing cheek! Content and Leisure, hand in hand With Innocence and Peace, advance, and sing; And Mirth, in many a mazy ring, Frisks o'er the flowery land. II. 3. Frail man, how various is thy lot below! To-day tho' gales propitious blow, And Peace soft gliding down the sky Lead Love along and Harmony, To-morrow the gay scene deforms: The thunder's sound Rolls rattling on through heaven's profound, And down rush all the storms. Ye days, that balmy influence shed, When sweet Childhood, ever sprightly, Ye cherub train, that brought him on his way, For now youth's eminence he gains: But what a weary length of lingering toil remains! III. 1. They shrink, they vanish into air, Now Slander taints with pestilence the gale; The wail of Wo, and groan of grim Despair. Darts quick destruction in each baleful glance; Pale wither'd Care his giant-stature rears, To grasp its feeble prey. |