X.
ODE TO IMAGINATION.
Oh thou! whose power inspires the minstrel's song.
And pours the tide of tuneful verse along,
Whose rapid wings through ether speed their flight,
While earth extended lies beneath thy sight,
Send one bright beam of that celestial blaze,
That round thy brow in dazzling lustre plays,
One ray, to gild the gloom of mental night,
And burst its shroud with thy refulgent light!
By thee each scene, that meets the gazing view,
Is cloth'd in beauty's bright attractive hue:
'Tis thine to wake the bold exalted thought,
With splendour graced, with mental ardour fraught;
The lofty strain of eloquence is thine,
By thee its torrent rolls, its beauties shine;
Thy power directs the mind's adventurous flight,
And guides its course to Grandeur's lofty height.
'Tis thine fair Beauty's brightest forms to trace,
Adorned with charms and rich in every grace,
By thee the painter's mimic canvas shows
A youthful form where each attraction glows;
By thee the eye its seeming lustre sheds,
By thee the rose the snowy cheek o'erspreads,
Till to the sight the lovely semblance seems
A living goddess, sung in fabled themes.
Nor does the strain whose headlong torrent falls,
While sounding echoes strike the lofty walls,
Nor Venus robed in heavenly charms alone,
The potent magic of thine influence own.
Oft have thy visions cheered the drooping breast,
By anguish pierced, by gloomy cares opprest,
A while suppressed the deep complaining sigh,
And wiped the tear from sorrow's streaming eye.
The lonely exile, forced afar to roam,
And leave for ever his lamented home,
Though foreign scenes to meet his view arise,
By thee transported, sees his native skies.
Each scene, that gave his youthful heart delight,
Again salutes his fond enraptured sight,
And Friendship's voice, which once he loved to hear,
In tender accents meets his listening ear.
But who can tell how wide thine influence reigns?
The weary captive, bound in galling chains,
Cheered by thy light, forgets his dungeon's gloom,
And seems to gaze on Nature's vernal bloom,
The leafy grove, the blue ethereal sky,
The flowery field, delight his wondering eye,
While Nature's music breathes its thrilling notes,
And on his ear in melting softness floats.
Fair Queen of Visions! I invoke thine aid,
Whose wondrous force, what strain has e'er display'd?
For who can trace thy wild eccentric course,
Or paint of mental light the lovely source?
As well might Art with feeble skill essay
To paint the warm enlivening orb of day,
With mimic hues its sparkling beams to light,
And pour its radiance on the aching sight!