Last night her Form the hours of slumber bless'd
Whose eyes illumin'd all my youthful years.--
Spirit of dreams, at thy command appears
Each airy Shape, that visiting our rest,
Dismays, perplexes, or delights the breast.
My pensive heart this kind indulgence cheers;
Bliss, in no _waking_ moment now possess'd,
Bliss, ask'd of thee with Memory's thrilling tears,
Nightly I cry, how oft, alas! in vain,
Give, by thy powers, that airy Shapes controul,
HONORA to my visions!--ah! ordain
Her beauteous lip may wear the smile that stole,
In years long fled, the sting from every pain!
Show her sweet face, ah show it to my soul!
_June 1780._