A SUMMER EVENING'S MEDITATION. 'TIS past! The sultry tyrant of the south Has spent his short-lived rage; more grateful hours Move silent on; the skies no more repell The dazzled sight, but with mild maiden beams Of tempered lustre court the cherished eye To wander o'er their sphere; where hung aloft New strung in heaven, lifts high its beamy horns Of softened radiance from her dewy locks. The shadows spread apace; while meekened Eve, Of unpierced woods, where wrapt in solid shade Το yon blue concave swelled by breath divine, Where, one by one, the living eyes of heaven Awake, quick kindling o'er the face of ether One boundless blaze; ten thousand trembling fires, And dancing lustres, where the unsteady eye, Restless and dazzled, wanders unconfined O'er all this field of glories; spacious field, And worthy of the Master: he, whose hand With hieroglyphics elder than the Nile Inscribed the mystic tablet, hung on high To public gaze, and said, "Adore, O man! The finger of thy God." From what pure wells Of milky light, what soft o'erflowing urn, Are all these lamps so fill'd? these friendly lamps, For ever streaming o'er the azure deep To point our path, and light us to our home. How soft they slide along their lucid spheres! Their destined courses: Nature's self is hushed, How deep the silence, yet how loud the praise! But are they silent all? or is there not A tongue in every star, that talks with man, And woos him to be wise? nor woos in vain : At this still hour the self-collected soul Turns inward, and beholds a stranger there Of high descent, and more than mortal rank; Has closed his golden eye, and wrapt in shades Ye citadels of light, and seats of Gods! Perhaps my future home, from whence the soul, The various busy scenes she left below, Its deep-laid projects and its strange events, As on some fond and doting tale that soothed To tread the hallowed circle of your courts, Seized in thought, On Fancy's wild and roving wing I sail, From the green borders of the peopled Earth, And the pale Moon, her duteous fair attendant; From solitary Mars; from the vast orb Of Jupiter, whose huge gigantic bulk Dances in ether like the lightest leaf; To the dim verge, the suburbs of the system, Where cheerless Saturn 'midst his watery moons Girt with a lucid zone, in gloomy pomp, Sits like an exiled monarch: fearless thence I launch into the trackless deeps of space, Of elder beam, which ask no leave to shine Of our terrestrial star, nor borrow light From the proud regent of our scanty day; Sons of the morning, first-born of creation, |