Ah! why have I indulg'd my dazzled sight
With scenes in Hope's delusive mirror shown?
Scenes, that too seldom human Life has known
In kind accomplishment;—but O! how bright
The rays, that gilded them with varied light
Alternate! oft swift flashing on the boon
That might at FAME's immortal shrine be won;
Then shining soft on tender LOVE's delight.—
Now, with stern hand, FATE draws the sable veil
O'er the frail glass!—HOPE, as she turns away,
The darken'd crystal drops.——Heavy and pale,
Rain-pouring clouds quench all the darts of day;
Low mourns the wind along the gloomy dale,
And tolls the Death-bell in the pausing gale.