VII.
Now hath one moment darken’d future years,
And changed the track of ages yet to be!—
Yet, mortal! midst the bitterness of tears,
Kneel, and adore th’ inscrutable decree!
Oh! while the clear perspective smiled in light,
Wisdom should then have temper’d hope’s excess;
And, lost One! when we saw thy lot so bright,
We might have trembled at its loveliness.
Joy is no earthly flower—nor framed to bear,
In its exotic bloom, life’s cold, ungenial air.