Or cheek of ev’ning after show’rs,
That fresh the western sky.
I send a sigh with ev’ry glance,
Or drop a softer tear;
Hard fate! no further to advance,
And yet to be so near.
So Moses from fair Pysga’s height,
The land of promise ey’d:
Surveyed the region of delight,
He saw, came down, and di’d.