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Felicia Dorothea Hemans - To The Head-Ach
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THOU tyrant of the ling`ring hour!
	Ah, why with me delight to rest?
	Hence far away, tormenting pow`r
	Unwelcome guest!

	With thee, sad visitant! I prove
	The long, the melancholy day;
	Ah! foe to peace! from me remove,
	Thy dreaded sway.

	Oft when I`d court ideal themes,
	`Tis then thy leaden wings o`erspread
	That seat of wild, fantastic dreams,
	My weary head.

	And when in Fancy`s fiery car,
	With her and with the muse I`d fly;
	To realms beyond the morning-star,
	The earth and sky;

	Not long in these illusions blest,
	Through fairy-palaces I roam;
	Thy wand recals, unwelcome guest!
	My visions home.

	Ah, foe to peace! When thou art nigh,
	Farewell the dew-balm of repose;
	Then slumber`s fled—the languid eye
	Forgets to close.

	I ne`er my midnight vigils keep,
	To ponder by the taper`s light;
	Nor waste in downy arms of sleep,
	The morning bright.

	`Tis mine to rove the hill, the dale,
	To wander through embow`ring trees;
	The soul of freshness to inhale,
	The mountain-breeze.

	Then, tyrant of the ling`ring hour,
	Ah! why with me delight to rest?
	Hence far away, tormenting pow`r,
	Unwelcome guest!
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