OBLIVION, teach me, teach me thee to find;
They tell me, in thy waters thou canst steep
Each sad remembrance of the troubled mind,
And lull sharp Misery to eternal sleep.

And canst thou, goddess, in thy potent stream,
Bid Retrospection yield its power to thine?
And Memory its sceptre too resign,
Making the past like a forgotten dream?

Say, can thy magic stream procure repose
To murd'rous Guilt, with restless, wide-stretch'd eye,
Fearing Detection's torch for ever nigh,
And Justice with its scourge the scene to close?

Or canst thou bid Remorse withdraw its sting,
Or cease to plunge its daggers in the heart?
Lethean-like, erase the fest'ring smart
Reflection's bitter pangs ne'er fail to bring?

Say, canst thou lull upon thy Stygian breast
The fiend Despair, than all the fiends more dire,
With quiv'ring lips and eye-balls set in fire,
Canst thou so wild a demon sooth to rest?

Or shrieking Agony, with writhing brow,
Convulsive sending forth the hollow groan?
Or raving Lunacy, with harrowing moan,
Beseeching useless Pity for its woe?

If with thy power such miseries thou canst calm,
Ah! let an hopeless wretch thy blessings prove,
Withhold not from his wounds the precious balm,
That from remembrance blots unhappy love!