Poems (Mitford)/To Cheerfulness
TO CHEERFULNESS.
Hail! Goddess of the sparkling eye!
With rosy cheek and dimpled smile!
Offspring of health and industry,
Whose pow'r can ev'ry care beguile!
With rosy cheek and dimpled smile!
Offspring of health and industry,
Whose pow'r can ev'ry care beguile!
Alike to thee, where Hecla's snows
For ever crown the rugged steep;
Where vegetation never glows,
And scarce the sullen lichens creep;
For ever crown the rugged steep;
Where vegetation never glows,
And scarce the sullen lichens creep;
Or, blest Italia's fertile vales,
Where Arno winds his classic stream,
Where softly blow th' unchanging gales,
Where mildly glows the sun's bright beam.
Where Arno winds his classic stream,
Where softly blow th' unchanging gales,
Where mildly glows the sun's bright beam.
Not happier is the Tuscan swain,
When, in still ev'ning's gentle shade,
He gaily trips along the plain,
And fondly wooes his lovely maid;
When, in still ev'ning's gentle shade,
He gaily trips along the plain,
And fondly wooes his lovely maid;
Not happier he, 'mid fairy bow'rs,
With the soft moon-beams silver'd pale;
Than where, when polar darkness lours,
When loudly howls the wintry gale.
With the soft moon-beams silver'd pale;
Than where, when polar darkness lours,
When loudly howls the wintry gale.
The Iceland peasant, by the blaze
That quivers on his moss-grown cell,
Tells the wild tale of other days,
And feels his heart to rapture swell.
That quivers on his moss-grown cell,
Tells the wild tale of other days,
And feels his heart to rapture swell.
For, vain are nature's countless charms
To summon bliss, or banish woe,
Unless, bright nymph! thy spirit warms,
Or thy inspiring graces glow.
To summon bliss, or banish woe,
Unless, bright nymph! thy spirit warms,
Or thy inspiring graces glow.
O goddess of the brilliant eye,
Grant me thy soul-enchanting pow'r!
Teach me each pensive scene to fly!
And wing with joy youth's fleeting hour!
Grant me thy soul-enchanting pow'r!
Teach me each pensive scene to fly!
And wing with joy youth's fleeting hour!
No more I'll waste the listless day
In dreams with sickly fancy fraught,
To languid indolence a prey,
Or vain regret, or pensive thought;
In dreams with sickly fancy fraught,
To languid indolence a prey,
Or vain regret, or pensive thought;
No more o'er tales of fancied woe
I'll weep in sympathetic pain;
No more the ready tear shall flow
At music's sweetly plaintive strain;
I'll weep in sympathetic pain;
No more the ready tear shall flow
At music's sweetly plaintive strain;
No more, beneath the moon's pale beam,
I'll roam at ev'ning's lonely hour,
List to the screech-owl's shrilly scream,
Quick darting from her ivied bow'r;
I'll roam at ev'ning's lonely hour,
List to the screech-owl's shrilly scream,
Quick darting from her ivied bow'r;
Nor hanging o'er the streamlet's side,
Where waves yon asper's foliage light;
Mark the bat flit across the tide,
Or circling wheel her eddying flight.
Where waves yon asper's foliage light;
Mark the bat flit across the tide,
Or circling wheel her eddying flight.
But, with thy cheering influence blest,
The merry dance Til quickly join,
Mix in each gay fantastic jest,
Or seek Thalia's crowded shrine.
The merry dance Til quickly join,
Mix in each gay fantastic jest,
Or seek Thalia's crowded shrine.
When laughing summer decks the plain,
I'll seek the hay-fields joyous throng,
Observe the merry rustic train,
And listen to their simple song.
I'll seek the hay-fields joyous throng,
Observe the merry rustic train,
And listen to their simple song.
And in the calm domestic hour
When closes dark November's day,
Then most I'll woo thy magic pow'r,
To chase each gloomy thought away.
When closes dark November's day,
Then most I'll woo thy magic pow'r,
To chase each gloomy thought away.
Then, by the wood-fire's sparkling light,
We'll gaily tell some sportive tale,
Court laughing fancy's wildest flight,
Nor heed the storms that shake the vale.
We'll gaily tell some sportive tale,
Court laughing fancy's wildest flight,
Nor heed the storms that shake the vale.
Oh! grant me thy unclouded ray!
And far from pow'r, and fame, and wealth,
Thrice blest I'll press life's varying day,
With thee, bright maid! and rosy health!
And far from pow'r, and fame, and wealth,
Thrice blest I'll press life's varying day,
With thee, bright maid! and rosy health!