OF TEMPER.
49
CANTO III.
YE kind transporters of th' excursive soul!
Ye visions! that when night enwraps the pole,
The lively wanderer to new worlds convey,
Escaping from her heavy house of clay,
How could the gentle spirit, foe to strife,
Bear without you this coil of waking life?
Its grief-embitter'd cares, its joyless mirth,
And all the flat realities of earth?
Sweet phantoms! you the glowing hope inspire,
You give to beauty charms, to fancy fire,
When, soaring like the eagle's kindred frame,
The poet dreams of everlasting fame;
Or, tickled by the feather of the dove,
The softer virgin dreams of endless love.
Ye visions! that when night enwraps the pole,
The lively wanderer to new worlds convey,
Escaping from her heavy house of clay,
How could the gentle spirit, foe to strife,
Bear without you this coil of waking life?
Its grief-embitter'd cares, its joyless mirth,
And all the flat realities of earth?
Sweet phantoms! you the glowing hope inspire,
You give to beauty charms, to fancy fire,
When, soaring like the eagle's kindred frame,
The poet dreams of everlasting fame;
Or, tickled by the feather of the dove,
The softer virgin dreams of endless love.
