Poems: Containing The Restropect, Odes, Elegies, Sonnets, &c.

Name: Poems: Containing The Restropect, Odes, Elegies, Sonnets, &c.
Author: Southey, Robert

Southey, Robert

English poetry -- 18th century; Sonnets, English

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                   TO HYMEN.


    God of the torch, whose soul-illuming flame
    Beams brightest radiance o'er the human heart;
        Of every woe the cure,
        Of every joy the source;

    To thee I sing: if haply may the muse
    Pour forth the song unblam'd from these dull haunts,
        Where never beams thy torch
        To cheer the sullen scene;

    From these dull haunts, where monkish science holds,
    In sullen gloom her solitary reign;
        And spurns the reign of love,
        And spurns thy genial sway.

    God of the ruddy cheek and beaming eye,
    Whose soft sweet gaze thrills thro' the bounding heart,
        With no unholy joy
        I pour the lay to thee.

    I pour the lay to thee, though haply doom'd
    In solitary woe to waste my years;
        Though doom'd perchance to die
        Unlov'd and unbewail'd.

    Yet will the lark, in iron cage inthrall'd,
    Chaunt forth her hymn to greet the morning sun,
        As wide his brilliant beam
        Illumes the landskip round;

    As distant 'mid the woodland haunts is heard
    The feather'd quire, she chaunts her prison'd hymn,
        And hails the beam of joy,
        Of joy to her denied.

    Friend to each noblest feeling of the soul,
    To thee I hymn, for every joy is thine;
        And every virtue comes
        To join thy generous train.

    Lur'd by the splendor of thy beamy torch,
    Beacon of bliss, young love expands his plumes,
        And leads his willing slaves
        To wear thy flowery bands;

    And then he yields the follies of his reign,
    Throws down the torch that scorches up the soul,
        And lights the purer flame
        That glows serene with thee.

    And chasten'd Friendship comes, whose mildest sway
    Shall cheer the hour of age, when fainter beam
        The fading flame of love,
        The fading flame of life.

    Parent of every bliss! the busy soul
    Of Fancy oft will paint, in brightest hues,
        How calm, how clear, thy torch
        Illumes the wintry hour;

    Will paint the wearied labourer, at that hour
    When friendly darkness yields a pause to toil,
        Returning blithely home
        To each domestic joy;

    Will paint the well-trimm'd fire, the frugal meal
    Prepar'd by fond solicitude to please,
        The ruddy children round
        That climb the father's knee:

    And oft will Fancy rise above the lot
    Of honest poverty, oft paint the state
        Where happiest man is blest
        With mediocrity;

    When toil, no longer irksome and constrain'd
    By hard necessity, but comes to please,
        To vary the still hour
        Of tranquil happiness.

    Why, Fancy, wilt thou, o'er the lovely scene
    Pouring thy vivid hues, why, sorceress sweet!
        Soothe sad reality
        With visionary bliss?

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Poems: Containing The Restropect, Odes, Elegies, Sonnets, &c.

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