Classic Poem

O FANCY ! lead me to thy woodbine bow'r,
What time the dim-ey'd bat, on leathern wing,
Proclaims mild Evening's melancholy hour,
And calls each Elf to C LODIO'S haunted spring,
For O BRON'S merry 'tendants then, have pow'r;
Meanwhile, faint Echoes to their murmurs ring;
And H ESPER stoops behind a sapphire cloud,—
Sweet Fancy ! then, each purer vision bring,
Each scene celestial, to my mental eye;
'Till pealing deeply full, with sullen swing,
From steeple-top, the death knell scares each joy,
And scatters o'er the vale thy fairy crowd.