HOPE. Susanna Blamire Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Blamire, Susanna, 1747-1794. The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire “The muse of Cumberland.” Now for the first time collected by Henry Lonsdale, M.D. with a preface, memoir, and notes by Patrick Maxwell, ... Edinburgh John Menzies, 61 Princes Street; R. Tyas, London; D. Robertson, Glasgow; and C. Thurnam, Carlisle. MDCCCXLII. 1842 pp. 148-153.

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HOPE . SEE , from yonder hill descending , Hope , with all her train attending ! " Quips , and cranks , and wanton wiles , Nods , and becks , and wreathed smiles ; " Fancies light that tread on air , Building fairy castles there ; Æolus his harp new stringing , Tuning to the breezes singing ; Zeph'rus sweeping softest chords ; Fancy setting airs to words ; Words that seem another sound , And lighter than a breath are found . Here Morpheus comes , a wandering guest , By plaintive murmurs lull'd to rest ; Round him painted vapours stream , Weaving soft the chequer'd dream , Which on silken wings they spread , Shaking o'er his drowsy head ; Subtile fumes waft round the brain , And fan these joys so light and vain , Which soft slumber loves to dress In long robes of happiness . See where come the dancing Hours , Sprinkling Hope's gay path with flowers ; " Thyme that loves the brown hill's side , " Heath in lasting colours dyed ; Feathery sprays that softly blow , And lead the sweet gales as they go Unheeded , — though the scented air Fragrance steals we know not where . Sweet Hope ! lightly dost thou tread , Bending not the weak flower's head ; Watching every changeful scene , Sliding gilded shows between Where new prospects open still , Rising fair behind the hill . 'Tis true stern Reason scorns thy sway , Nor basks beneath thy sunny ray ; Nor hears thy accents clear and sweet , Where sprightly airs and softness meet , Mixing with harmonic chords , Pouring melody on words . Nor will his fix'd eye deign to glance On the mirthful mazy dance , When the Hours , all hand in hand , Link with thee , a jocund band ; When thy white robes float on air , Catching rays that tremble there , Tinted with the varying beam , Ending in prismatic stream . On thy head a wreath of flowers Nods in time to dancing Hours , Feathery-footed , trim , and light , Flitting round from morn till night ; From morn till night , thou gaily leads Through dark green woods and painted meads , With rose-ting'd cheeks , and clear blue eye Looking through another sky , Till we reach th' enamell'd lawn Round which a river journeys on , Where many a bridge is taught to please Gothic eyes , or gay Chinese , Thrown in every point of view Arch can add a beauty to , While here and there an ashling weaves Verdant knots of summer leaves . Now we reach thy mansion high , Spiral turrets climb the sky , Gilding clouds of varied light , Changing underneath the sight . See what crowds surround the gate , See what Expectations wait ; And , running out , surround their queen , Ask all at once where she has been ; And if the promis'd Hours were found With Elysian garlands crown'd ; Or if yet she'd leave to tell Where true Happiness would dwell ; Or yet had seen the promis'd Day When Expectation , grave or gay , In happy , blissful bands should be United into Certainty . She sweetly smil'd , and wav'd her hand ; At which a specious flattering band ( Quick through the ear their credence reaches ) Bow'd round , — and , full of soothing speeches Declar'd the Hours would soon appear ; Then , whispering softly in the ear , Taught smiles along the cheek to glow , As if those Hours they well did know . Ye Promises ! ye Flatterers vain ! That dress out Hope and varnish Pain , And make the dullest things appear Of shining surface , smooth and clear ; Handing the cup to Hope's sweet lip , Of which we guests so fondly sip , While seeing all the bottom shine , Ne'er think there's poison in the wine : — Dark Lethe's cup each grief subdues , That used on former joys to muse ; For to Hope's enchanted dome Dreaded Ills dare never come ; Not one mask'd Sorrow can you see In all her court of revelry : — What though ye pull the careless sleeve , And would tempt us to believe These noon-joys are waning fast , Form'd only for an hour to last ; Hence , miscreants ! — let me , while I may , Enjoy the gewgaws of my day . Descend , sweet Hope , from thy bright throne Glittering with each precious stone , — Rubies red , and sapphires blue , Amethysts of purple hue , Topazes of sun-like blaze , And diamonds with their thousand rays ; Descend ! and mount yon hill with me , There let me opening prospects see , Which , step by step , shall fairer grow The while as fades this scene below . Forests of immortal oak ; Rocks by tumbling torrents broke ; " Shallow brooks , and rivers wide , Verdant meads , with daisies pied ; " Distant cities , large and proud ; Mountains dim , that seem a cloud ; Castles high , that live on hills ; Little cots , that seek the rills ; Upland grounds , where flocks are seen Mixing white with darkest green ; What ! though painted on the air , Still they look serene and fair . Though my foot be left to tread Barren heaths with brambles spread , Yet if thou check one falling tear , Or bathe the eye till it grow clear , I'll freely pardon all thy wiles , And fancy good in all thy smiles ; Still pleas'd to find the ills we dread Thy fairy wing can overspread ; And though thy promises deceive , Bless my kind stars that I believe ; Thy cranks and wiles who would not see ! For happy they who doubt not thee .