Goddess of golden dreams, whose magic pow'r

Sheds smiles of joy o'er Mis'ry's haggard face,

And lavish strews the visionary flow'r,

To deck life's dreary paths with transient grace.

I wooe thee, Fancy, from thy fairy cell,

Where 'midst the endless woes of human kind,

Wrapt in ideal bliss, thou lov'st to dwell,

And sport in happier regions unconfin'd.

Deep sunk, O Goddess! in thy pleasing trance,

Oft let me seek yon low sequester'd vale,

Whilst Wisdom's self shall steal a sidelong glance,

And smile contempt—but listen to thy tale.

Alas! how little do her vot'ries guess

Those rigid truths, which learned fools revere,

Serve but to prove, O bane to happiness!

Our joys delusive, but our woes sincere.

Be theirs to search where clustering roses grow,

Touching each sharp thorn's point, to prove how keen;

Be mine to trace their beauties as they blow,

And catch their fragrance where they blush unseen.

Haply my path may lie thro' barren vales,

Where niggard Fortune all her sweets denies;

Ev'n there shall Fancy scent the ambient gales,

And scatter flow'rets of a thousand dyes.

Nor let the worldling scoff: be his the task

To form deep schemes—and mourn his hopes betray'd;

Be mine to range unseen, 'tis all I ask,

And frame new worlds beneath the silent shade.

To look beyond the views of wealth and pride,

Bidding the mind's eye range without controul,

Through wild, extatic day-dreams, far and wide,

To bring returns of comfort to the soul.

To bid groves, hills, and lucid streams appear,

The gilded spire, arch'd dome, and fretted vault;

And sweet society be ever near

Love, ever young, and friends without a fault. 

I see entranc'd the gay conceptions rise,

My harvests ripen, and my white flocks thrive;

And still as Fancy pours her large supplies,

I taste the god-like happiness to give.

To check the patient widow's deep-fetch'd sighs,

And shield her infant from the north-blast rude;

To bid the sweetly-glistening tear arise,

Which swims in the glad eye of gratitude.

To join the artless maid and honest swain,

Where fortune rudely bars the way to joy;

To ease the tender mother's anxious pain,

And guard, with fost'ring hand, her darling boy.

To raise up modest merit from the ground,

And send th' unhappy smiling from my door;

To spread content and chearfulness around,

And banquet on the blessings of the poor.

Delicious dream! how oft beneath thy pow'r,

Thus light'ning the sad load of other's woe,

I steal from rigid fate one happy hour,

Nor feel I want the pity I bestow.

Delicious dream! how often dost thou give

A gleam of bliss, which Truth would but destroy;

Oft dost thou bid my drooping heart revive,

And catch one chearful glimpse of transient joy.

And O how precious is that timely friend,

Who checks affliction in her dread career!

Who knows distress, well knows that he may lend

One hour of life, who stops one rising tear.

O, but for thee, long since the hand of Care

Had mark'd with livid pale my furrow'd cheek;

Long since the shiv'ring grasp of cold Despair

Had chill'd my heart, and taught it how to break.

For ah! Affliction steals with trackless flight;

Silent the stroke she gives, but not less keen:

And bleak Misfortune, like an eastern blight,

Sheds black destruction, though it flies unseen.

O come then Fancy, and with lenient hand

Dry my moist cheek and smooth my furrow'd brow;

Bear me o'er smiling tracks of Fairyland,

And give me more than Fortune can bestow.

Mix'd are her boons, and chequer'd all with ill,

Her smiles, the sun-shine of an April morn,

The cheerless valley skirts the gilded hill,

And latent storms in every gale are borne.

Give me thy hope, which sickens not the heart;

Give me thy wealth, which has no wings to fly;

Give me the pride thy honours can impart;

Thy friendship give me, warm in poverty.

Give me a wish the worldling may deride,

The wise may censure, and the proud may hate;

Wrapt in thy dreams to lay the world aside,

And snatch a bliss beyond the reach of fate.