LE
SS of the witching hour; Blest Contemplation's placid friend; Oft in my solitary bow'r,
I mark thy lucid beam From thy crystal car descend,
Whitening the spangled heath, and limpid sapphire stream. And oft, amidst the shades of night I court thy undulating light; When Fairies dance around the verdant ring, Or frisk beside the bubbling spring,
When the thoughtless
RD'S song Echoes thro' the silent air, As he pens his fleecy care,
Or plods with saunt'ring gait, the dewy meads along.
TE
RB! as thro' the vaulted sky Feath'ry clouds transparent sail; When thy languid, weeping eye, Sheds its soft tears upon the painted vale; As I ponder o'er the floods, Or tread with listless step, th'embow'ring woods, O, let thy transitory beam, Soothe my sad mind, with
CY'S aëry dream. Wrapt in
ON, let me trace O'er the vast ethereal space, Stars, whose twinkling fires illume Dark-brow'd
HT'S obtrusive gloom; Where across the concave wide; Flaming
RS swiftly glide; Or along the milky way, Vapours shoot a silvery ray;
And as I mark, thy faint reclining head, Sinking on Ocean's pearly bed;
Let
ON tell my soul, thus all things fade. The Seasons change, the "garish
UN" When Day's burning car hath run Its fiery course, no more we view, While o'er the mountain's golden head, Streak'd with tints of crimson hue, Twilight's filmy curtains spread,
Stealing o'er Nature's face, a desolating shade. Yon musky
OW'R, that scents the earth;
The
OD, that gave its odours birth; The
CK, that breaks the torrent's force; The
LE, that owns its wand'ring course; The woodlands where the vocal throng Trill the wild melodious song; Thirsty desarts, sands that glow, Mountains, cap'd with flaky snow; Luxuriant groves, enamell'd fields, All, all, prolific Nature yields, Alike shall end; the sensate
RT, With all its passions, all its fire, Touch'd by
TE'S unerring dart, Shall feel its vital strength expire; Those eyes, that beam with
IP'S ray, And glance ineffable delight, Shall shrink from
FE'S translucid day,
And close their fainting orbs, in
TH'S impervious night. Then what remains for mortal pow'r; But
ME'S dull journey to beguile; To deck with joy, the winged hour, To meet its sorrows with a patient smile;
And when the toilsome pilgrimage shall end,
To greet the tyrant, as a welcome friend.
