Janet Little

To Hope

    I.

Hail meek-ey’d maid! of matchless worth!
Our best companion here on earth;
  To thee sole pow’r is giv’n,
T’ illume our dark and dreary way,
As through life’s mazy path we stray,
  And bend our steps to heav’n.
’Tis thine to smooth the rugged vale,
  To stem the trickling tear;
Thy whispers, as the spicy gale,
  Do drooping trav’llers cheer.
    Incline thou, to shine now
      Upon me as I go;
    Thy favour shall ever
      Alleviate my wo.

    II.

Thy presence calms the raging seas,
And to the throbbing breast gives ease
  Amid the tempest’s howl,
When waves appear as mountains high,
When swelling surges dash the sky,
  And foaming billows roll;
When danger, with uplifted hand,
  Proclaims th’ approaching doom,
Thou gently dost the stroke withstand,
  And dissipates the gloom.
    When caring, despairing,
      And deeming all as lost,
    Thy rays will portray still
      The long expected coast.

    III.

Thou animates the hero’s flame;
To him presents a deathless name
  In the ensanguin’d field:
Thou dost his nerves with valour brace,
Bids him, with bold undaunted face,
  Destructive weapons wield.
War’s trumpet, breathing rude alarms,
  Strikes terror all around;
Thy voice of fame, and honour’s charms,
  Outvies the direful sound.
    When falling, appalling
      The tumults wild increase,
    On wings then, thou brings then
      The harbinger of peace.

    IV.

Thy power elates the student’s views;
The paths of science kindly strews
  With never-fading flow’rs.
Depriv’d of thee, how lovers mourn
Dejected, restless and forlorn,
  In unfrequented bow’rs!
Attending still on Hymen’s rites,
  Thou decorates the chain;
Thy smile the sprightly maid invites
  And lures the youthful swain;
    Still easing, and pleasing,
      When stern misfortune stares,
    ’Mid losses, and crosses,
      Thou lightens all their cares.

    V.

From life’s fair dawn to liart eve,
We all thy flatt’ring tales believe,
  Enamour’d of thy art:
Thy soft and salutary voice
Gives birth to unexpected joys,
  And soothes the bleeding heart;
And even at our latest hour,
  When earthly comforts fly,
Thou dost, by a superior Pow’r,
  Death’s terrors all defy.
    Not grieving, when leaving
      This scene of dole and care,
    But viewing, pursuing
      A more exalted sphere.