Mary Darby Robinson - Ode to MelancholyMary Darby Robinson - Ode to Melancholy
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SORC`RESS of the Cave profound!
Hence, with thy pale, and meagre train,
Nor dare my roseate bow`r profane,
Where light-heel`d mirth despotic reigns,
Slightly bound in feath`ry chains,
And scatt`ring blisses round.
Hence, to thy native Chaoswhere
Nurs`d by thy haggard Dam, DESPAIR,
Shackled by thy numbing spell,
Mis`ry`s pallid children dwell;
Where, brooding o`er thy fatal charms,
FRENZY rolls the vacant eye;
Where hopeless LOVE, with folded arms,
Drops the tear, and heaves the sigh;
Till cherish`d Passion`s tyrant sway
Chills the warm pulse of Youth, with premature decay.
O, fly Thee, to some Church-yard`s gloom,
Where beside the mould`ring tomb,
Restless Spectres glide away,
Fading in the glimpse of Day;
Or, where the Virgin ORB of Night,
Silvers o`er the Forest wide,
Or across the silent tide,
Flings her soft, and quiv`ring light:
Where, beneath some aged Tree,
Sounds of mournful Melody
Caught from the NIGHTINGALE`s enamour`d Tale,
Steal on faint Echo`s ear, and float upon the gale.
DREAD POW`R! whose touch magnetic leads
O`er enchanted spangled meads,
Where by the glow-worm`s twinkling ray,
Aëry Spirits lightly play;
Where around some Haunted Tow`r,
Boding Ravens wing their flight,
Viewless, in the gloom of Night,
Warning oft the luckless hour;
Or, beside the Murd`rer`s bed,
From thy dark, and morbid wing,
O`er his fev`rish, burning head,
Drops of conscious auguish fling;
While freezing HORROR`s direful scream,
Rouses his guilty soul from kind oblivion`s dream.
Oft, beneath the witching Yew,
The trembling MAID, steals forth unseen;
With true-love wreaths, of deathless green,
Her Lover`s grave to strew;
Her downcast Eye, no joy illumes,
Nor on her Cheek, the soft Rose blooms;
Her mourning Heart, the victim of thy pow`r,
Shrinks from the glare of Mirth, and hails the MURKY HOUR.
O, say what FIEND first gave thee birth,
In what fell Desart, wert thou born;
Why does thy hollow voice, forlorn,
So fascinate the Sons of Earth;
That once encircled in thy icy arms,
They court thy torpid touch, and doat upon thy Charms?
HATED IMP,I brave thy Spell,
REASON shuns thy barb`rous sway;
Life, with mirth should glide away,
Despondency, with guilt should dwell;
For conscious TRUTH`s unruffled mien,
Displays the dauntless Eye, and patient smile serene.
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