Address To Thought

OH thou! the musing, wakeful pow'r, That lov'st the silent, midnight hour, Thy lonely vigils then to keep, And banish far the angel, sleep, With all his lovely train; Come, pensive thought! with thee I'll rove, Through forest wild, sequestered grove, Or twilight plain. The lone recluse, in hermit-cell, With thee, oh nymph! delights to dwell; Forsakes the world, and all its charms, Forsakes the syren pleasure's arms, In peaceful shades to rest; And oft with thee, entranc'd, may hear, Celestial voices warbling near, Of spirits blest! When slow declines the rosy day And ev'ning smiles with parting ray, When twilight spreads her magic hues, When moon-beams tremble on the dews, Be mine to rove retir'd; By fairy bower, or dimpled stream, To muse with thee some heavenly theme, Oh! maid inspir'd! 'Tis thine on eagle-wings to soar, Unknown, unfathom'd realms explore; Below the deeps, above the sky, Beyond the starry orbs on high; (Can aught restrain thy flight?) To pierce the veil of future time, And rise, in Fancy's car sublime, To realms of light: At midnight, to the guilty breast, Thou com'st, a fear'd, appalling guest; While lightnings flash and thunders roll, Accusing conscience wakes the soul, And bids each fear increase; And, while benignant slumber flies, With awful voice, in whisper cries, Farewell to peace! But oh, dread pow'r! how sweet thy reign, To Virtue's mild and hallow'd train! The storm around may wildly rave, And winter swell the mountain wave, Yet soft their calm repose! Their minds unruffled and serene, And guardian-seraphs watch unseen, Their eyes to close!