'Tis early eve-the sun's last trembling glance,
Still hovers o'er and gilds the western wild,
And slowly leaves the haunts of solitude.
Venus, bright mistress of the musing hour,
Above the horizon lifts her beck'ning torch;
Stars, in their order, follow one by one
The graceful movement of their brilliant queen,
Obedient to the hand that fix'd them all,
And said to each-Be this thy place.
Refreshing airs revive man's sinking strength,
And hallowed thoughts come rushing to the heart!
Now from her eastern clime the golden Moon,
Set in a frame of azure, lifts her shield,
And all creation wakes to life renewed!
Not long she holds supreme her joyous course;
Her foes in sullen vapors fitful rise,
And envious, hovering over her splendid path,
Now thin-now dense, impede her kindly ray.
In hasty, partial gleams, of light and shade,
She holds her purposed way.-Now darker clouds
Collect, combine, advance-she falls-'twould seem
To rise no more-sudden they break-they pass,
Once more she shines-bright sovereign of the skies!
Thus 'tis with life-it is not dubious hope
In early youth-'tis joy-joy unalloy'd;
Joy blooms within, all objects take the tint,
And glowing colors paint the vista's length.
Not long, life dances on the plastic scene,
Care's haggard form invades each flow'ry path;
Disease, with pallid hue, leads on her train,
And Sorrow sheds her tears in wasting showers!
But Pain and Grief pass on, and harrowing Care
Awhile put on some pleasing, treacherous shape;
Then hope revives, health blooms! love smiles-
And wealth and honors crown the distant day.
How long? Envenom'd ills collect all 'round,
And while short-sighted man his fragile schemes
Pursues-not grasps-blow after blow fall swift,
Fall reckless-and he sinks beneath their weight!
To rise no more? Like yon triumphant Moon,
That 'walks in brightness' now, beyond the clouds,
Through patient suffering, man shall surely rise
To dwell above that orb, in light ineffable,
Where pain-where sin-where sorrows, never come!