O! ever skilled to wear the form we love!
To bid the shapes of fear and grief depart,
Come gentle Hope! with one soft smile remove
The wasting sadness of an aching heart.
Thy voice benign, enchantress let me hear;
Say that for me some pleasures yet shall bloom;
That Fancy's radiance. Friendship's precious tear
Shall brighten or shall soothe misfortune's gloom.
But come not glowing with the dazzling ray,
Which once, with dear illusions charmed my eye!
O! strew no more, sweet flatterer! on my way,
The flowers I fondly thought too bright to die.
Visions less fair will soothe my pensive breast,
That asks not Happiness, but longs for rest.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.