To Fancy Poem by Janetta Philipps

From Ether's plains, where shines thy starry throne,
Fancy, fair queen of song, on earth descend!
To me thy potent spells, Enchantress, lend,
And deck with flowers a verse that's all thine own.
'Tis thine, when Genius darts his lightning ray,
And flashes o'er the soul a nobler day;
'Tis thine to bid the poet's strain
Pour its soft melody along;
The countless shades that form thy train
Can deathless make his varied song.
To thee belongs the soul of fire,
To thee its grand, its boundless views;

Thou rul'st the magic of the lyre,
And all th' enchantments of the muse.
When yon bright sun, with vivid glow,
Pierces the clouds that dimmed his light,
Swift o'er the heavens the radiant bow
Streams with a thousand colours bright.
Nor is a power less high, less potent, thine,
Nor less illusive splendors round thee live;
Through falling tears thou bid'st the future shine,
Fair with each smiling grace that Hope can give.
Blest Power ! each mortal heart can speak
The charm that dwells with thee;
Vainly thy cherished dreams we seek
In cold reality.

Ah no !- from youth's gay hand she tears
Each flower that in her path she sought to strew,
And gives the cypress branch, or baleful yew,
Fit emblems of her own corroding cares.
Chilled by her breath expires the dream of Fame,
That many a dreary hour had force to cheer;
E'en holy Inspiration's sacred flame,
Extinguished, fades in Sorrow's frequent tear.
As swiftly through the turbid cloud
The Meteor darts its blazing light,
Illumined by the passing beam,
The dark and gloomy shades of Night
With momentary brightness gleam;
So Fancy's smile- her brilliant ray
Can chase the ills of life away,
And wrap its sorrows in Oblivion's shroud.

Ah! then to thee, to thee I fly,
Thy glittering prospects all are fair;
Unclouded lustre decks thy sky,
And Hope and Peace dwell ever there.