"I'm FANCY call'd! My realm is bright with joy, and sparkling gems Lie scatter'd o'er my dells for all to cull; Flowers, that earth's most favour'd climes would fail To peer, grow there in richest clusterings; Music floats in my groves, no mortal lyre Could breathe so full of thrilling extacy; Wealth, that earth's confines could not yield, if heap'd, Art thou a prison'd wretch? I limits break; And give thee ingress to her cavern'd stores, Beneath my spell, thou 'lt hear a voice at eve Recounting all the deeds of busy day— Telling if good or evil most prevail'd ! — If thou wouldst pierce the clouds, where angel-hosts To bring to man a message of good-will, And thou shalt watch her strew the sky with stars, When thy rich stores of speech thou pourest forth, The fairest flowers luxuriantly may spring; And tune thy voice to sweetest harmony, grace: And gift thy form with motion's loveliest For youth to love his rule: I leave him free— Entranced, he listen'd to her syren tongue, That seem'd to pour forth lustre to delude, Or blind to all but her bewitching self. Not quite convinced, but charm'd beyond all thought, And all reluctant to awake from bliss, The youth in wild abandonment exclaim'à : - "Take me, sweet Fancy, bear me on thy wings To thy bright fairy home, for thine I am !— To suffer and to strive, is Reason's code; Thine, to enjoy the latter choice I make !— More fitting peer for Age, with wrinkled brow With sadden'd brow and slow retreating steps, "Dear youth, beware! forget not thou hast said, "Thy counsels I will treasure in my mind:' They'll serve thee well, e'en in thy joyous youth, When Fancy's fleeting charms shall mock thy grasp And thou wilt need a friend to comfort thee! He that rejects me in his pride of youth, I bless not in his age. Seek me in time !" SIR ELDRED THE BETRAYED. A ROMANCE of olden TIMES, WITH blazon'd crest, and waving plume, And many a trophy won in fight, Sir Eldred paced an ancient room, Where dimly gleam'd the morning light; And ever, as his step drew near A deep dark niche, that distant lay From where the sun did faintly peer, He bent his mailed knee to pray. C |