Poems (Campbell)/Address to Pleasure

by Dorothea Primrose Campbell

ADDRESS TO PLEASURE.

I know thee not, oh, nymph so fair!
With sparkling eyes and golden hair;
Thy skin more white than winter snows,
Thy blushes brighter than the rose;
And breath more fragrant than the breeze
That gently sighs on summer-trees;
The blue of midnight's vaulted skies
Not equals thine expressive eyes,
Whose brilliant glance is like the star
That trembles through the clouds afar;
Thy airy form more graceful seems
Than willow bending o'er the streams;
And thou art swifter than the roe
On breezy mountain's craggy brow.

Oh! nymph so fair, and heav'nly bright!
Thou art a stranger to my sight;
Since happy childhood's early day
A stranger to my weary way!
How lightly flew those joyous hours,
That saw me 'tend my op'ning flow'rs;
The tulip gay, the lily white,
Then gave my simple soul delight;
And I could watch, with glad surprise,
The moss-rose' lovely tints arise;
Sweet-william op'ning to the ray,
And closing with the closing day.
Too soon those happy moments fled,
And ev'ry blissful scene was dead;
Creation's bloom did but annoy,
And sighs and tears were all my joy,
And solitude the only charm
That could this pensive bosom warm.
Oft in the deep sequester'd shade
I woo'd the melancholy maid;
And when pale Cynthia rode the sky,
Gaz'd on her beams, and almost wish'd to die.

But thou, with Hope, art now return'd;
Welcome, long-lost, and deeply mourn'd!
With joy thy beauteous face I see,
For, ah! thy smiles are bent on me;
Forsake me not, sweet nymph! again,
Nor leave my soul the slave of pain:
And thou, whose sister-form is nigh,
Enchanting Hope, with eagle-eye!
Withdraw no more thy soothing dreams,
Nor hide again the golden beams
That open now with welcome light,
Like morning on the skirts of night!
But stay to gild my future years,
And wipe at last these falling tears.