Ann Radcliffe

* * *

When first the vernal morn of life,
  Beam'd on my infant eye,
Fond I survey'd the smiling scene,
  Nor saw the tempest nigh,

Hope's bright illusions touch'd my soul,
  My yound ideas led;
And Fancy's vivid tints combine'd,
  And fairy prospects spread.

My guileless heart expanded wide,
  With filial fondness fraught;
Paternal love that heart supplied
  With all its fondness sought.

But O! the cruel, quick reverse!
  Fate all I lov'd involv'd;
Pale Grief Hope's trembling rays dispers'd,
  And Fancy's dreams dissolv'd."