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| WHEN by my solitary hearth I sit, | |
| When no fair dreams before my “mind’s eye” flit, | |
| And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; | |
| Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, | |
| And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head. |
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| Whene’er I wander, at the fall of night, | |
| Where woven boughs shut out the moon’s bright ray, | |
| Should sad Despondency my musings fright, | |
| And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away, | |
| Peep with the moon-beams through the leafy roof, | 10 |
| And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof. | |
| |
| Should Disappointment, parent of Despair, | |
| Strive for her son to seize my careless heart; | |
| When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air, | |
| Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart: | 15 |
| Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright, | |
| And fright him as the morning frightens night! | |
| |
| Whene’er the fate of those I hold most dear | |
| Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow, | |
| O bright-eyed Hope, my morbid fancy cheer; | 20 |
| Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow: | |
| Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed, | |
| And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head! | |
| |
| Should e’er unhappy love my bosom pain, | |
| From cruel parents, or relentless fair; | 25 |
| O let me think it is not quite in vain | |
| To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air! | |
| Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, | |
| And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head! | |
| |
| In the long vista of the years to roll, | 30 |
| Let me not see our country’s honour fade: | |
| O let me see our land retain her soul, | |
| Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom’s shade. | |
| From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed— | |
| Beneath thy pinions canopy my head! | 35 |
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| Let me not see the patriot’s high bequest, | |
| Great Liberty! how great in plain attire! | |
| With the base purple of a court oppress’d, | |
| Bowing her head, and ready to expire: | |
| But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings | 40 |
| That fill the skies with silver glitterings! | |
| |
| And as, in sparkling majesty, a star | |
| Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud; | |
| Brightening the half veil’d face of heaven afar: | |
| So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, | 45 |
| Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed, | |
| Waving thy silver pinions o’er my head. |
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