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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. | |
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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! | |
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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! | |
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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! | |
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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! | |
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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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