Hope

Hope, with a goodly prospect feeds the eye, Shews from a rising ground possession nigh; Shortens the distance, or o'erlooks it quite, So easy 'tis to travel with the sight.

Call up your better reason to your aid, And hope the best: that friendly beam is left To chear the wretch, and lighten thro' his sorrows; Nor can he sink so low, but hope will find him: The pleasing prospect of a better day Shines thro' the gloom of life, and shortens pain.

O Hope! sweet flatt'rer! whose delusive touch Sheds on afflicted minds the balm of comfort, Relieves the load of poverty, sustains The captive, bending with the weight of bonds, And smooths the pillow of disease and pain, Send back th' exploring messenger with joy And let me hail thee from that friendly grove.

The wretch condemn'd with life to part, Still, still on hope relies; And every pang that rends the heart Bids expectation rise. Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, Adorns and cheers the way; And still, as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray.