Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HOPE; PINDARIC ODE, by CHARLES COTTON


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HOPE; PINDARIC ODE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Hope, thou darling, and delight
Last Line: Never again to hope for anything but heaven.
Subject(s): Hope; Optimism


I

HOPE, thou darling, and delight
Of unforeseeing reckless minds,
Thou deceiving parasite,
Which no where entertainment finds
But with the wretched, or the vain;
'Tis they alone fond Hope maintain.
Thou easy fool's chief favourite;
Thou fawning slave to slaves, that still remains
In galleys, dungeons, and in chains;
Or with a whining lover lov'st to play,
With treach'rous art
Fanning his heart,
A greater slave by far, than they
Who in worst durance wear their age away.
Thou, whose ambition mounts no higher,
Nor does to greater fame aspire,
Than to be ever found a liar;
Thou treach'rous fiend, deluding shade,
Who would with such a phantom be betray'd,
By whom the wretched are at last more wretched made.

II

Yet once, I must confess, I was
Such an overweening ass,
As in fortune's worst distress
To believe thy promises;
Which so brave a change foretold,
Such a stream of happiness,
Such mountain hopes of glitt'ring gold,
Such honours, friendships, offices,
In Love and Arms so great success
That I ev'n hugg'd myself with the conceit,
Was myself party in the cheat,
And in my very bosom laid
That fatal Hope by which I was betray'd,
Thinking myself already rich, and great:
And in that foolish thought despis'd
Th' advice of those who out of Love advis'd;
As I'd foreseen what they did not foresee,
A torrent of felicity,
And rudely laughed at those, who pitying wept for me.

III

But of this expectation, when 't came to 't,
What was the fruit?
In sordid robes poor Disappointment came,
Attended by her handmaids, Grief and Shame;
No wealth, no titles, no friend could I see,
For they still court prosperity,
Nay, what was worst of what mischance could do,
My dearest Love forsook me too;
My pretty Love, with whom, had she been true,
Even in banishment,
I could have liv'd most happy and content,
Her sight which nourished me withdrew.
I then, although too late, perceiv'd
I was by flattering Hope deceiv'd,
And call'd for it t' expostulate
The treachery and foul deceit:
But it was then quite fled away,
And gone some other to betray,
Leaving me in a state
By much more desolate,
Than if when first attacked by Fate,
I had submitted there
And made my courage yield unto despair.
For Hope, like cordials, to our wrong
Does but our miseries prolong,
Whilst yet our vitals daily waste,
And not supporting life, but pain,
Call their false friendships back again
And unto Death, grim Death, abandon us at last.

IV

In me, false Hope, in me alone,
Thou thine own treach'ry hast out-done;
For Chance, perhaps, may have befriended
Some one th' hast labour'd to deceive,
With what by thee was ne'er intended,
Nor in thy pow'r to give:
But me thou hast deceiv'd in all, as well
Possible, as impossible,
And the most sad example made
Of all that ever were betray'd.
But thou hast taught me wisdom yet,
Henceforth to hope no more
Than I see reason for,
A precept I shall ne'er forget:
Nor is there any thing below
Worth a man's wishing, or his care,
When what we wish begets our woe,
And Hope deceiv'd becomes Despair.
Then thou seducing Hope farewell,
No more thou shalt of sense bereave me,
No more deceive me,
I now can counter-charm thy spell,
And for what's past, so far I will be even,
Never again to hope for anything but Heaven.





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