1056 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1806. 
Fear, while he trembles at the strain, 
Half thrill’d with joy, half piere’d with pain, 
Won with thy song will call thee bride; 
But Hope enchanted lures aside, 
And bids thee wave thy rosy hand, 
‘With jocund mien and gesture bland ; 
To hail the joyous coming year, ; 
With Hope in prospect ever near ; 
Or snatch the rip’ning harvest’s store, 
F’er dreary’ Winter’s glooms be o’er. 
Now link’d with moping Melancholy, 
Musing, nymph, demure in folly ; 
To glades and gloomy grottos running. 
Thou art joy and day-light shunning. 
Now wand’ring wild with mad Remorse, 
Giant Terror tracks thy course ; 
To shake the murderer’s anxious breast, 
And rob his tortur’d soul of rest. 
In vain Night’s opiate dews are shed, 
Where Guilt with spectres haunts the bed, 
And Fancy lifts the bleeding steel, 
And bids the knell of death to peal ; 
Or bodied in terrific form, 
Thro’ lurid flashings of the storm, 
Shows the pale cheek and bleeding side, 
Mouthing its wounds, and gaping wide ; 
With gory gouts and clotted hair, 
With piteous gaze, or vengeful glare. 
Now frolic Fancy rides the breeze, 
That blasts the heath and waves the trees ; 
Where drivelling crones, o’er Christmas ale, 
Repeat, the hundredth time, the tale, 
To watch and while away the night ; 
How hellish fiends, or fairy sprite, 
Have stuck with pins the faithless breast 
Of maids, by lazy night-mare press’d. 
How christian knights, by love enthrall’d, 
The paynim giant ne’er appall’d ; 
How wizard vapours oft mislead, 
O’er swamps, the traveller and his steed ; 
Or how the wild self-murderer’s ghost, 
Who lies beneath yon cross-way post, — 
At midnight quits th’ unhallow’d ground, 
And sadly stalks his grave around. 
The winds blow loud, his form appears, 
And Fancywakes a thousand fears ; 
3 The 
