WHERE art thou, Fancy, visionary maid?
Whose lenient artifice and easy aid
Can quell the fierce disorders of the breast,
And soothe the pensive soul to rest?
Whether along the daisy bank reclin'd,
With foliage veil'd, you court the fanning wind,
Or by the brook's loquacious channel stray,
Where the deep dimpled eddies play;
Haste thee, from the blended glow
Of beauties in yon lucid bow,
With fine spun light, and golden beams,
Softly weave thy waking dreams:
Bid the rang'd ideas fly,
Opening to the ravish'd eye
A glimpse of bliss, where gay Desire is found
Sporting with Youth while music wakes around.