Classic Poem

Parent of joy! heart-easing mirth!
Whether of Venus or Aurora born:
Yet goddess sure of heav'nly birth,
Visit benign a son of grief forlorn.
Thy glittering colours gay,
Around him, mirth, display;
And o'er his raptur'd sense
Diffuse thy living influence.
So shall each hill in purer green array'd,
And flower adorn'd in new-born beauty glow:
The grove shall smooth the horrors of its shade,
And streams in murmurs shall forget to flow.
Shine, goddess, shine with unremitting ray,
And gild (a second sun) with brighter beam our day.

Labour with thee forgets his pain,
And aged poverty can smile with thee:
If thou be nigh, grief's hate is vain,
And weak the uplifted arm of tyranny.
The morning opes on high
His universal eye;
And on the world doth pour
His glories in a golden show'r.
Lo! darkness trembling 'fore the hostile ray,
Shrinks to the cavern deep and wood forlorn.
The brood obscene, that own her gloomy sway,
Troop in her rear, and fly th' approach of morn.
Pale shiv'ring ghosts, that dread th' all-chearing light,
Quick, as the lightning's flash, glide to sepulchral night.

But whence the glad'ning beam
That pours his purple stream
O'er the long prospect wide?
'Tis mirth. I see her sit
In majesty of light,
With laughter at her side.
Bright-ey'd fancy hov'ring near,
Wide waves her glancing wing in air:
And young wit flings his pointed dart,
That guiltless strikes the willing heart.
Fear not now affliction's power,
Fear not now wild passion's rage,
Nor fear ye aught in evil hour,
Save the tardy hand of age.
Now mirth hath heard the suppliant poet's pray'r;
No cloud, that rides the blast, shall vex the troubled air.