Poems (Campbell)/Address to Fancy
ADDRESS TO FANCY.
Now busy Fancy plumes her wing, And flies to many a distant clime,Pursues the fleeting bloom of Spring, And mocks the ravages of time;'Tis her's to lead me wide and far,To realms beyond the polar star,O'er the unfathom'd ocean's breast—Nor stops her weary wing to rest.
When Spring, with all her blossoms gay, Retires as summer flow'rs appear;And Summer, stealing soft away, To Autumn leaves the rip'ning year:And e'en when Winter's stormy breathConsigns the flow'ry world to death,To other realms we'll swiftly go,Where still the summer-sun doth glow.
Nor distance, danger, time, nor space, Bright Spirit! shall our steps confine;From Pole to Pole we'll urge the race— The world, the mighty world, is thine!Thou wand'rest down into the deep,Where the wreck'd mariner doth sleep;Where diamonds gild the dusky wave,And mermaid rears her coral cave.
Thou soarest up to yonder heav'n, And while the chaste moon glimmers thereBy sportive breeze at random driv'n, Sailest upon the clouds of air;Nor beetling cliff, nor forest dread,But still thy daring foot may tread—Then stretch thy wildest wing for me,And I will range the globe with thee!
Far to the North, where the faint Sun Scarce darts his few and straggling rays;Where deep retir'd in caverns dun The Greenland native hides his days; There, Fancy! will we speed our flight;And waste, in caves, the lengthen'd night;Share the wild native's gloomy ease,And find e'en savage sports can please.
High in the pure cerulean sky We'll see the Northern lights arise,And mark their mingled squadrons fly Like warring armies through the skies:Where Cynthia, in her silver car,And ev'ry planet, ev'ry star,With double lustre brightly glow,Reflected in the frost below.
Till, when the winter-solstice comes, The natives quit their realms of night;We'll listen then their noisy drums, That welcome the returning light:While their untutor'd bards rehearseWith gesture wild, in flowing verse,The noble actions of their sires,Or hail the Sun's rekindled fires.
For now the rapid chace once more They'll urge along their moors again;Or jocund leave the rocky shore, To hunt the tenants of the main.Now night and day the sunny beamDances on ocean, rock, and stream;While, ev'ry want and wish confin'd,Contentment cheers the native's mind.
Then to Spitzbergen we will hie, Where em'rald rocks fantastic swell,And frozen mountains, lifted high, The Arctic ocean's rage repel.There, for no human form is near,We'll wander with the polar bear,With rein-deer o'er the deserts haste,And smile amid the horrid waste.
Or turn to Iceland's lonely isle, Surrounded by the dashing surge,Where flaming Hecla, many a mile, Doth still her fiery torrents urge;And flings around her fearful light,Amid the ebon shades of night,While Gieser's boiling fountains stream,Reflecting bright the lurid gleam.
Or rove on Lapland's moon-light shore, And mark the Sun's departing beam;Hear the hoarse billows' angry roar, And startle at the sea-fowl's scream.—But, Fancy, check thy airy plume,And leave these realms of savage gloom,Where Winter holds his joyless court;And to some softer clime resort—
Where Spring, with flow'ry garlands crown'd, Trips lightly o'er the dewy plain;Or ardent Summer throws around The purple fruit and yellow grain; To where the eastern islands restLike gems on ocean's billowy breast:Where the Sun darts his fev'rish beam,And flows the Ganges' sacred stream.
Where Indus, like the flood of time, Rolls his broad waters to the deep;Where the tall palm-tree nods sublime, And graceful plaintain crowns the steep:Where 'neath the bamboo's cool retreat,The panting native shuns the heat;Where oft the deadly snake is laid,And tiger couches in the shade.
Or where the hungry leopards rage 'Mid deserts wild, and forests rude,Or elephants, from age to age, Range 'mid the awful solitude.Or on Arabia's burning sands,Where faint the camel-driver stands,Nor sees one cooling spring arise,While his sad heart within him dies.
And when we've travell'd ev'ry plain, And when our airy journey's o'er,We'll turn, with heartfelt joy, again To visit Britain's sea-girt shore:There patriot-worth and truth appear,There liberty to all is dear;And still her sons united vie,To conquer in her cause—or die!