On her eye gleams the bright and precious tear
His burning pages then will draw from her,
Kind-hearted loveliness! he sees it near;
His heart beats, he is moved; and strong to incur
The cruelty and injustice, is consoled;
And waiting thus his triumph to obtain,
Enjoying it, though but in death to hold,
Flies his Creator’s bosom to regain.
O, sweet illusion! who has had the power
To save himself from thee, who was not born