THE FLIGHTS OF FANCY INSCRIBED TO MARIA. "All hail, sweet Fancy's ray! and hail the dream That weans the weary soul from guilt and woe!" BEATTIE. IN In fancy's bright, delusive hour, When reason had resign'd her sway; And fairy dreams had magic power To lead the pensive mind astray; To some delightful calm retreat, With all the lightening's speed, I've flown, To hold with thee communion sweet, And live for thee, and thee alone. Not bound by love's deceitful chain, Which time can break but not restore; But by attractions which retain Angelic souls from parting more. Who shall describe the pure delight Embowering shades, surpassing far Italia's boasted myrtle groves, Where oft, beneath the evening star, The laurell'd shade of Petrarch roves ; Through groves like these in thought I've stray'd, And paus'd, while, gently murmuring by, Transparent streams sweet music made, More soft than zephyr's softest sigh. But there was one, methought, partook The influence of the heavenly scene; And soon I found, in every look, The traits of thy exalted mien. The verdant myrtle's yielding bough, With blushing roses full in bloom, Were wreath'd around thy graceful brow, And scatter'd far a rich perfume. A spotless robe of purest white Around thy seraph form was thrown; Thine eye, with rapture sparkling bright, The diamond's lustre far outshone. And from thy harp, by magic strung, Flow'd such a soul-enchanting strain, That fiends, before with madness stung, In listening had forgot their pain. Ye shadows hence! beguile no more, Though sweet the bliss, 'tis dearly bought; Though strong the spell, its charm is o'er; Though cherish'd, 'tis with anguish fraught! But, fancy! though thy powerful spell Hope's soothing whispers fondly tell Of blissful scenes more bright than e'er Elysium's fabled fields display'd; Like these so feebly painted here, But not like these condemn'd to fade. |