The
FIELDS
of
MELANCHOLY
and
CHEARFULNESS
.
STILL
were
the
Groves
,
and
venerable
Night
O'er
half
the
Globe
had
cast
her
gloomy
Veil
,
When
by
a
Taper's
solitary
Gleam
Sat
musing
Mira
pensive
and
alone
;
In
her
sad
Breast
officious
Memory
Reviv'd
the
Pictures
of
departed
Friends
,
Whose
pleasing
Forms
she
must
behold
no
more
.
Forgotten
Woe
,
that
for
a
time
had
slept
,
Rose
into
Life
,
and
like
a
Torrent
pour'd
On
her
faint
Soul
,
which
sunk
beneath
its
Rage
:
At
length
soft
Slumber
kindly
interven'd
,
And
clos'd
those
Eye-lids
that
were
drench'd
in
Tears
;
But
restless
Fancy
that
was
waking
still
,
Led
my
deluded
Spirit
on
the
Wing
To
pictur'd
Regions
and
imagin'd
Worlds
.
I
seem'd
transported
to
a
gloomy
Land
,
Whose
Fields
had
never
known
the
chearful
Sun
:
A
heavy
Mist
hung
in
the
frowning
Sky
,
No
feather'd
Warblers
chear'd
the
mourning
Groves
,
Nor
blushing
Flow'rs
adorn'd
the
barren
Ground
:
I
gaz'd
around
the
solitary
Coast
,
When
lo
a
Nymph
with
solemn
Air
approach'd
,
Whose
Dress
was
careless
and
her
Features
grave
,
Her
Voice
was
broken
and
her
Hearing
dull
:
She
spoke
but
seldom
,
yet
at
last
she
told
Me
in
a
Whisper
,
that
her
Name
was
Thought
;
And
more
,
she
offer'd
,
with
a
friendly
Air
,
To
lead
me
safely
through
the
dreary
Gloom
:
We
walk'd
along
through
rough
unpleasing
Paths
,
O'er
Beds
of
Night-Shade
and
through
Groves
of
Yew
,
Till
we
arriv'd
within
a
dusky
Wood
,
Whose
spacious
Bound
was
fenc'd
with
shagged
Thorn
.
The
Trees
were
baleful
Cypress
;
and
a
few
Tall
Pines
that
murmur'd
to
the
rushing
Wind
:
Here
dwelt
the
Natives
,
(
mournful
as
the
Place
)
Or
sunk
in
real
or
imagin'd
Woe
;
Complaining
Sounds
were
heard
on
ev'ry
Side
,
And
each
bewail'd
the
loss
of
something
dear
:
Some
mourn'd
a
Child
that
in
its
Bloom
expir'd
,
And
some
a
Brother's
or
a
Parent's
Fate
:
Lost
Wealth
and
Honours
many
Tongues
deplor'd
,
And
some
were
wretched
,
tho'
they
knew
not
why
.
But
as
we
reach'd
the
Centre
of
the
Place
,
Complaints
were
heard
more
piercing
than
before
:
The
gathering
Fogs
grew
thicker
o'er
our
Heads
,
And
a
cold
Horror
thrill'd
our
wounded
Souls
,
And
thus
we
travell'd
,
pensive
beyond
measure
,
Through
Paths
half
cover'd
with
perplexing
Thorns
;
At
length
we
found
two
Rows
of
aged
Firs
,
Whose
Tops
were
blasted
by
unwholsom
Winds
.
This
solitary
Vista
op'ning
wide
,
Disclos'd
the
Palace
of
its
mournful
Queen
:
Before
the
Gate
was
plac'd
a
frightful
Guard
,
Who
serv'd
as
Porters
to
the
gloomy
Dome
:
Here
,
stretch'd
upon
a
miserable
Couch
,
Lay
pining
Sickness
with
continual
Groans
;
And
by
her
Side
,
(
array'd
in
filthy
Weeds
)
Sat
quaking
Poverty
with
ghastly
stare
:
His
Presence
seem'd
to
aggravate
her
Pain
,
For
when
she
cast
her
languid
Eyes
on
him
,
She
hid
her
Face
and
rais'd
a
fearful
Cry
.
There
Disappointment
like
a
Statue
stood
,
With
Eyes
dejected
and
with
Visage
pale
:
Her
heaving
Bosom
seem'd
to
swell
with
Anguish
,
And
in
her
Hand
she
grasp'd
a
broken
Reed
:
Here
,
in
the
Garb
of
Piety
,
we
saw
Proud
Error
frowning
with
a
Look
severe
:
Doubt
at
his
Elbow
bore
a
Rod
of
Snakes
,
And
held
a
Cup
fill'd
to
the
Brim
with
Tears
,
By
these
we
pass'd
into
the
dusky
Court
,
O'er-run
with
Hemlock
and
with
gloomy
Fern
:
Perpetual
Night
hung
o'er
the
dismal
Walls
,
And
from
the
Ground
unhealthy
Vapours
rose
;
Through
folding
Doors
of
Ebony
we
came
,
Into
a
winding
Passage
hung
with
black
,
For
ever
dark
—
possest
by
flitting
Shades
,
By
waking
Fancies
,
and
by
frightful
Dreams
This
led
us
to
a
subterraneous
Cell
,
Where
the
sad
Empress
Melancholy
reign'd
;
The
musing
Matron
sat
upon
a
Throne
Of
mould'ring
Earth
—
her
Footstool
of
the
same
;
And
for
her
Canopy
an
aged
Yew
Spread
o'er
her
Head
its
venerable
Arms
:
Her
careless
Robe
was
of
a
sable
Hue
,
And
on
her
Shoulders
flow'd
her
slighted
Hair
:
Her
Lips
were
clos'd
with
an
eternal
Silence
;
Her
Arms
were
folded
and
her
Head
reclin'd
;
On
either
Side
her
pale
Attendants
stood
,
Two
mournful
Maids
,
Dejection
and
Despair
;
The
first
(
attended
with
continual
Faintings
)
Seem'd
on
the
Point
to
close
her
dying
Eyes
:
A
constant
Dew
hung
on
her
death-like
Brow
,
And
her
cold
Bosom
half
forgot
to
heave
.
Despair
(
whose
Garments
by
herself
were
torn
)
Was
mark'd
with
Wounds
that
Time
can
never
heal
:
With
desp'rate
Hand
she
struck
her
bleeding
Breast
,
And
wash'd
the
Ground
with
never-ceasing
Tears
;
With
ghastly
Figures
was
the
Cave
adorn'd
,
And
in
the
midst
the
Effigies
of
Death
.
Shock'd
at
the
Place
we
hasted
to
return
,
And
left
the
horrid
Mansion
far
behind
;
Long
time
we
travell'd
through
untrodden
Paths
,
Where
the
brown
Forests
cast
an
awful
Gloom
:
At
length
the
floating
Clouds
began
to
part
,
And
left
behind
them
Streaks
of
chearful
Azure
;
Our
Path
grew
smooth
and
widen'd
to
the
view
,
Until
it
open'd
on
a
spacious
Field
;
A
Field
whose
Charms
no
Painter
e'er
cou'd
reach
,
Though
he
shou'd
borrow
from
the
Poet's
Heav'n
;
The
Clime
was
temp'rate
and
the
Air
was
still
,
The
sprouting
Turf
was
of
a
beauteous
Green
,
Speckled
with
Flow'rs
of
a
delicious
Dye
.
Here
crystal
Lakes
were
border'd
round
with
Trees
,
Where
Blossoms
flourish'd
in
eternal
Spring
;
For
here
the
Groves
no
blasting
Tempests
know
,
But
still
are
blest
with
Fruits
that
ne'er
decay
:
Perpetual
Sun-shine
crown'd
the
gaudy
Hills
,
And
the
fair
Vallies
were
with
Plenty
gay
.
A
Path
there
was
,
trod
o'er
the
spicy
Field
,
Which
led
the
Wand'rer
to
a
blissful
Shade
,
Whose
Fence
was
made
of
balmy
Eglantine
;
Where
the
fair
Plane
o'erlook'd
the
Myrtle
Shrub
,
And
flow'ring
Orange
that
perfume
the
Air
;
Here
flew
in
Throngs
the
soft
aerial
Choir
,
Whose
glitt'ring
Necks
like
polish'd
Amber
shone
:
We
pass'd
delighted
through
ambrosial
Paths
,
And
Bowers
move
with
Jessamine
and
Rose
;
Joy
seiz'd
the
ravish'd
Spirits
,
while
we
breath'd
In
Gales
that
tasted
of
immortal
Sweets
.
At
length
the
parting
Trees
broke
into
Form
,
And
with
a
Circle
bound
a
charming
Plain
,
I'th'
midst
of
which
upon
an
Iv'ry
Throne
Sat
Chearfulness
,
the
Genius
of
the
Place
:
Her
Mien
was
graceful
and
her
Features
fair
;
Continual
Smiles
dwelt
on
her
dimpl'd
Cheeks
,
Her
Hair
was
bound
beneath
a
shining
Crown
,
Her
Robes
were
Azure
bright
with
golden
Stars
,
And
in
her
Hand
she
held
a
silver
Lute
.
On
either
Side
her
royal
Sisters
sat
,
Both
lovely
,
as
herself
,
tho'
not
so
gay
;
The
eldest
had
a
Face
divinely
fair
;
Calm
was
her
Look
,
with
Lips
prepar'd
for
smiling
,
She
often
rais'd
her
thankful
Eyes
to
Heav'n
;
Her
Form
was
easy
and
her
Name
Content
:
The
other
(
much
the
youngest
)
was
array'd
In
Virgin
Robes
white
as
unsully'd
Snow
;
Her
thoughtless
Smiles
wou'd
tame
a
Tiger's
Rage
,
A
Lamb
(
whose
Neck
was
circl'd
with
a
Band
Of
new
blown
Roses
)
at
her
Feet
was
laid
,
A
milk-white
Dove
upon
her
Hand
she
bore
:
Thus
ever
blest
sat
Innocence
the
fair
.
Behind
these
Sisters
stood
a
shining
Train
,
As
Maids
of
Honour
to
the
Royal
Fair
:
Prosperity
(
the
first
)
was
climbing
up
A
stately
Pyramid
of
painted
Marble
;
From
whose
high
Top
she
reach'd
a
brilliant
Crowd
:
Then
with
an
Air
that
spoke
a
joyful
Heart
,
Look'd
down
with
Pleasure
on
the
Plain
below
.
Gay
Wealth
the
next
,
in
her
embroider'd
Vest
,
Shone
like
the
Entrails
of
the
eastern
Mine
;
Her
Hair
was
platted
thick
with
sparkling
Gems
,
And
in
her
Hand
she
bore
a
golden
Wand
.
Health
,
like
a
Sylvan
Huntress
cloath'd
in
Green
,
In
her
right
Hand
a
dapled
Palfry
held
,
Her
Air
was
masculine
,
and
swift
her
Motion
;
A
Wreath
of
Flow'rs
just
ravish'd
from
the
Meads
,
Bound
up
the
Ringlets
of
her
sable
Hair
;
Her
Cheeks
were
ruddy
;
and
her
large
black
Eyes
Confess'd
the
Vigour
of
her
sprightly
Soul
.
These
were
the
Natives
of
this
happy
Land
,
The
Sight
of
whom
so
fill'd
my
glowing
Breast
With
Ecstasy
that
I
awoke
:
And
thus
Their
Glories
vanish'd
,
and
were
seen
no
more
.