Sonnet to Hope

O, ever skilled to wear the form we love!
To bid the shapes of fear and grief depart;
 Come, gentle Hope! with one gay smile remove
The lasting sadness of an aching heart.
 Thy voice, benign Enchantress! let me hear;
Say that for me some pleasures yet shall bloom,-
 That Fancy's radiance, Friendship's precious tear,
Shall soften, or shall chase, misfortune's gloom.
 But come not glowing in the dazzling ray,
Which once with dear illusions charm'd my eye,-
 O! strew no more, sweet flatterer! on my way
The flowers I fondly thought too bright to die;
 Visions less fair will soothe my pensive breast,
 That asks not happiness, but longs for rest!