"Ar summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow POEM. PART II. Ar summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below, Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye, Whose sun-bright summit mingles with the sky? Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near?— 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue. Thus, with delight we linger to survey The promised joy's of life's unmeasured way, Thus, from afar, each dim-discovered scene More pleasing seems than all the past hath been, And every form that Fancy can repair From dark oblivion, glows divinely there. What potent spirit guides the raptured eye To pierce the shades of dim futurity? Can Wisdom lend, with all her heavenly power, The pledge of Joy's anticipated hour? Ah, no! she darkly sees the fate of man— Her dim horizon bounded to a span; Or, if she hold an image to the view, 'Tis Nature pictured too severely true. With thee, sweet HOPE! resides the heavenly light, Primeval HOPE, the Aönian Muses say, Shot from malignant stars to earth below; When Peace and Mercy, banished from the plain, |