Commencement of a Poem on Despair

Some to Aonian lyres of silver soundWith winning elegance attune their song,Form'd to sink lightly on the soothed sense,And charm the soul with softest harmony:'Tis then that Hope with sanguine eye is seenRoving through Fancy's gay futurity;Her heart light dancing to the sounds of pleasure,Pleasure of days to come. Memory, too, thenComes with her sister, Melancholy sad,Pensively musing on the scenes of youth,Scenes never to return.Such subjects merit poets used to raiseThe attic verse harmonious; but for meA deadlier theme demands my backward hand,And bids me strike the strings of dissonanceWith frantic energy.'Tis wan Despair I sing, if sing I canOf him before whose blast the voice of Song,And Mirth, and Hope, and Happiness all fly,Nor ever dare return. His notes are heardAt noon of night, where, on the coast of blood,The lacerated son of AngolaHowls forth his sufferings to the moaning wind;And, when the awful silence of the nightStrikes the chill death-dew to the murderer's heart,He speaks in every conscience-prompted wordHalf utter'd, half suppressed.'Tis him I sing--Despair--terrific name,Striking unsteadily the tremulous chordOf timorous terror--discord in the sound:For to a theme revolting as is this,Dare not I woo the maids of harmony,Who love to sit and catch the soothing soundOf lyre Æolian, or the martial bugle,Calling the hero to the field of glory,And firing him with deeds of high empriseAnd warlike triumph: but from scenes like mineShrink they affrighted, and detest the bardWho dares to sound the hollow tones of horror.

Hence, then, soft maids,And woo the silken zephyr in the bowersBy Heliconia's sleep-inviting stream:For aid like yours I seek not; 'tis for powersOf darker hue to inspire a verse like mine!'Tis work for wizards, sorcerers, and fiends.

Hither, ye furious imps of Acheron,Nurslings of hell, and beings shunning light,And all the myriads of the burning concave:Souls of the damned:--Hither, oh! come and joinThe infernal chorus. 'Tis Despair I sing!He, whose sole tooth inflicts a deadlier pangThan all your tortures join'd. Sing, sing Despair!Repeat the sound, and celebrate his power;Unite shouts, screams, and agonizing shrieks,Till the loud pæan ring through hell's high vault,And the remotest spirits of the deepLeap from the lake, and join the dreadful song.