The rising tear, the stifled sigh, _25
A mind but ill at ease display,
Like blackening clouds in stormy sky,
Where fiercely vivid lightnings play.
Thus when souls’ energy is dead,
When sorrow dims each earthly view, _30
When every fairy hope is fled,
We bid ungrateful world adieu.
AUGUST, 1810.
7. SONG.
HOPE.
And said I that all hope was fled,
That sorrow and despair were mine,
That each enthusiast wish was dead,
Had sank beneath pale Misery’s shrine.—
Seest thou the sunbeam’s yellow glow, _5
That robes with liquid streams of light;
Yon distant Mountain’s craggy brow.
And shows the rocks so fair,—so bright—
Tis thus sweet expectation’s ray,
In softer view shows distant hours, _10
And portrays each succeeding day,
As dressed in fairer, brighter flowers,—
The vermeil tinted flowers that blossom;
Are frozen but to bud anew,
Then sweet deceiver calm my bosom, _15
Although thy visions be not true,—
Yet true they are,—and I’ll believe,
Thy whisperings soft of love and peace,
God never made thee to deceive,
’Tis sin that bade thy empire cease. _20