To Romance
- 1Parent of golden dreams, Romance!
- 2Auspicious Queen of childish joys,
- 3Who lead'st along, in airy dance,
- 4Thy votive train of girls and boys;
- 5At length, in spells no longer bound,
- 6I break the fetters of my youth;
- 7No more I tread thy mystic round,
- 8But leave thy realms for those of Truth.
- 9And yet 'tis hard to quit the dreams
- 10Which haunt the unsuspicious soul,
- 11Where every nymph a goddess seems,
- 12Whose eyes through rays immortal roll;
- 13While Fancy holds her
boundless reign,
- 14And all assume a varied hue;
- 15When Virgins seem no longer vain,
- 16And even Woman's smiles are true.
- 17And must we own thee, but a name,
- 18And from thy hall of clouds descend?
- 19Nor find a Sylph in every dame,
- 20A Pylades in every friend?
- 21But leave, at once, thy realms of air
- 22To mingling bands of fairy elves;
- 23Confess that woman's false as fair,
- 24And friends have feeling for--themselves?
- 25With shame, I own, I've felt thy sway;
- 26Repentant, now thy reign is o'er;
- 27No more thy precepts I obey,
- 28No more on fancied pinions soar;
- 29Fond fool! to love a sparkling eye,
- 30And think that eye to truth was dear;
- 31To trust a passing wanton's sigh,
- 32And melt beneath a wanton's tear!
- 33Romance! disgusted with deceit,
- 34Far from thy motley court I fly,
- 35Where Affectation holds her seat,
- 36And sickly Sensibility;
- 37Whose silly tears can never flow
- 38For any pangs excepting thine;
- 39Who turns aside from real woe,
- 40To steep in dew thy gaudy shrine.
- 41Now join with sable Sympathy,
- 42With cypress crown'd, array'd in weeds,
- 43Who heaves with thee her simple sigh,
- 44Whose breast for every bosom bleeds;
- 45And call thy sylvan female choir,
- 46To mourn a Swain for ever gone,
- 47Who once could glow with equal fire,
- 48But bends not now before thy throne.
- 49Ye genial Nymphs, whose ready tears
- 50On all occasions swiftly flow;
- 51Whose bosoms heave with fancied fears,
- 52With fancied flames and phrenzy glow
- 53Say, will you mourn my absent name,
- 54Apostate from your gentle train?
- 55An infant Bard, at least, may claim
- 56From you a sympathetic strain.
- 57Adieu, fond race! a long adieu!
- 58The hour of fate is hovering nigh;
- 59E'en now the gulf appears in view,
- 60Where unlamented you must lie:
- 61Oblivion's blackening lake is seen,
- 62Convuls'd by gales you cannot weather,
- 63Where you, and eke your gentle queen,
- 64Alas! must perish altogether.