Oh, my true friend! I am not lone, While then canst speak with such a tone!
So hopeless is the world without;The world within I doubly prize;Thy world, where guile, and hate, and doubt, And cold suspicion never rise;Where thou, and I, and Liberty, Have undisputed sovereignty.
What matters it, that all around Danger, and guilt, and darkness lie, If but within our bosom's bound We hold a bright, untroubled sky, Warm with ten thousand mingled rays Of suns that know no winter days?
Reason, indeed, may oft complain For Nature's sad reality, And tell the suffering heart how vain Its cherished dreams must always be;And Truth may rudely trample down The flowers of Fancy, newly-blown:
But thou art ever there, to bring The hovering vision back, and breathe New glories o'er the blighted spring, And call a lovelier Life from Death.
And whisper, with a voice divine, Of real worlds, as bright as thine.
I trust not to thy phantom bliss, Yet, still, in evening's quiet hour, With never-failing thankfulness, I welcome thee, Benignant Power;Sure solacer of human cares, And sweeter hope, when hope despairs!
HOW CLEAR SHE SHINES.
How clear she shines! How quietly I lie beneath her guardian light;While heaven and earth are whispering me, "To morrow, wake, but dream to-night."
Yes, Fancy, come, my Fairy love!
These throbbing temples softly kiss;And bend my lonely couch above, And bring me rest, and bring me bliss.
The world is going; dark world, adieu!
Grim world, conceal thee till the day;The heart thou canst not all subdue Must still resist, if thou delay!
Thy love I will not, will not share;Thy hatred only wakes a smile;Thy griefs may wound--thy wrongs may tear, But, oh, thy lies shall ne'er beguile!
While gazing on the stars that glow Above me, in that stormless sea, I long to hope that all the woe Creation knows, is held in thee!
And this shall be my dream to-night;I'll think the heaven of glorious spheres Is rolling on its course of light In endless bliss, through endless years;I'll think, there's not one world above, Far as these straining eyes can see, Where Wisdom ever laughed at Love, Or Virtue crouched to Infamy;Where, writhing 'neath the strokes of Fate, The mangled wretch was forced to smile;To match his patience 'gainst her hate, His heart rebellious all the while.