To Fancy
By Thomas Oldham
O! what a nameless feeling of delight
Stole o'er my wondering spirit, like a gleam
From opening heaven! dost thou, then, Fancy, deign
Once more to visit me? thou dost! thou dost!
That breath of extacy, that heavenly light,
Flow'd from the wafture of thy angel wings,
And from thy smiling eyes: divinest Power!
Welcome, thrice welcome! O vouchsafe to make
My breast thy temple, and my heart thy shrine!
Still will I worship thee, and thou shalt keep,
In peace, thy new abode, nor fear the approach
Of aught profane or hostile, to disturb
Thy holy mysteries; for I will chase
Far from the hallow'd precincts where thou dwell'st
Each worldly passion, every grovelling thought,
And all the train of Vice; striving to make
The shrine well-worthy its celestial guest.
Still will I worship thee, and oft invoke
Thine inspirations, and with transport yield
To thy sweet, magic influence all my soul:
The slightest breath of thine inspiring voice
Shall wake my nerves, most feelingly alive,
And bid them tremble with poetic bliss.
The frown of Reason thou no more shalt fear;
Did I say Reason's frown? no! 'twas the frown
Of false Philosophy, her foolish pride.
Reason and Thou are sisters, born to rule
Unitedly, in happiest harmony,
The mind of man; and in the heaven-sent hour
Of inspiration, from the self-same source
Ye pour the stream of mingled light and flame
That animates, illumes, and warms the soul.
How could I e'er desert thee, loveliest Nymph!
To court thy rival, false Philosophy?
How could I quit thy verdant, flowery walks,
To tread with painful toil the briary maze
Of metaphysic lore? Indulgent Power!
The offence forgive. Lured by the specious name,
Philosophy, and by her meteor rays
Misled, with fond presumptuousness I strove
To penetrate the dark, unfathom'd depth
Where Truth in awful mystery resides.
Not deigning in thy mirror to behold
Her image, though in loveliest beauty clad,
With lawless curiosity I sought
To view the Goddess in her naked form.
But heaven to man, nor angel gives to scan
Truth's very self; she lives for ever hid,
Shrined in the bosom of Divinity.
Long wandering mid the chaos, I at length
Approach'd the border of the cold, dark waste,
The bottomless abyss, the dreadful void
Of scepticism; affrighted, back I shrunk.
O Fancy! ne'er will I forsake thee more,
Nor view thee with severe, truth-searching eye,
Melting thy fairy visions into air.
Thy paradise, delighted, let me rove,
There study nature, and with grateful heart,
In thy serene, translucent stream behold
The light of truth reflected, and the smile
Of heaven's benevolence, and in that glass
The loveliness of every Virtue woo
And every Grace. There let me, too, behold
In all her beauty, bright-eyed Poesy,
That heavenly Maid who charm'd my youthful heart;
And let the love of glory fire my breast;
And let me see, to stimulate my powers,
The new-born crescent of my fame ascend,
While on its pointed horn the Fairy, Hope,
On tiptoe stands, fluttering her airy wings
To fan its beams and joyful hails the hour
When in its full-orb'd glory it shall shine.