Ye visions of the night, farewell! Yet with impassion'd fond regret I quit thy shadowy realms, where, brought Adieu, ye visionary vales! Far off Night's sullen spirit sails, Yet shall yon golden lamp of day More lasting forms more happy scenes display? Alas! like thine, they quickly pass away, Like thine, alas! deceive. II. SOFT queen of shadows, gentle Sleep, Expatiates 'midst thy visionary reign, And bathes in slumbers bland the wakeful sense of pain. Sweet are thy foldings, when, to bless The paths where childhood loved to stray; Where playful at the cottage door, [man. To mimic, midst their sports, the graver cares of Scenes of enchantment! ye are fled; Yet Fancy oft your flight pursues, While evening shadows dim O'er earth's pale surface swim, [hues. And eyes your transient forms, and pranks in golden Lock'd in Sleep's profound repose, Hope relumes her sickly fires, The bard's ecstatic breast inspires," Expressing subjects high, and worthy of the Muse. And oft has Friendship known The kind relief that Sleep alone, VOL. III. M Soothest of heavenly powers! with opiate touch Even Love, beneath thy placid reign, [bestows: In sweet delirium sinks to rest, Calms the wild tumult of his breast, [chain. And in thy silken bonds foregoes his ruthless Say, Sleep, whence o'er the mind With Pity touch, with Horror thrill, With gildings soft the scene relieve, And heighten into bliss Life's dull realities, By necromantic groves that glance Their umbrage dusk to the Phoebean beam, The twinkling boughs to rosy zephyrs dance; By darksome rocks that lour O'er the wild brook that bubbles by, O, often meet my ear In echoes soft and clear, Of fairy harps unseen and solemn minstrelsy: And o'er my soul thy mystic visions pour, By happiest presage of better days, Beam the clear sunshine of ingenuous praise: Or steep'd in Envy's venom'd gall: Then, Sleep, thy healing influence bring, And breathe the balm divine of visionary rest. Thus, Sleep, oft let me lie Beneath thy grateful shadowings: Call around Shifting swift from grave to gay, And midst thy moonlight scenes delighted walk, The spring time of our youth again, To taste the pleasure or the pain, The solitary urn! Thus, Sleep, oft find me, at thy soft return, And to my sight in colours faint Those future scenes of Beauty paint Which oft, with foretaste kind, await A weak but rapturous glance of Immortality! REV. J. WHITEHOUSE. MADNESS. SWELL the clarion, sweep the string, Let wood and dale, let rock and valley ring: 'Tis Madness' self inspires. Hail, awful Madness, hail! Thy realm extends, thy powers prevail, Far as the voyager spreads his venturous sail. Nor best nor wisest are exempt from thee; Folly Folly's only free. Hark! to the astonish'd ear The gale conveys a strange tumultuous sound. Pride-Ambition idly vain, Revenge and Malice swell her train,- And injured Merit with a downcast eye |