Dreams and Fables I invent:
But, when anguish they present ,
Mine are sympathies of pain,
Mine the tear which cannot feign.

" But, " you 'll say, " the Man can sleep,
" And at home wuold scorn to weep;
" Or the tear that he would shed
" By a nobler spring is fed! "

Idle hope! — not these alone
Are the fictions he has known.
What are hopes, and what are fears,
But a pageant — for his tears?

All Ambition's towering scheme
Is a rising vapour's dream.
Phantoms only we pursue,
Nothing solid — nothing true.

Father of the human race,
Lead us through the wandering chace!
Give us, in the arms of rest,
Visions bright, and slumbers blest!