Hope, At summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow

Thomas Campbell, "The Bard of Hope.".

At summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow

Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below,

Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye,

Whose sunbright 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 joys 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.

Auspicious Hope! in thy sweet garden, grow

Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe.

Won by their sweets, in nature's languid hour,

The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bower;

Then, as the wild bee murmurs on the wing,

What peaceful dreams thy handmaid spirits bring!

What viewless forms th' Eolian organ play,

And sweep the furrow'd lines of anxious care away!

Angel of life! thy glittering wings explore

Earth's loneliest bounds and ocean's wildest shore.

Lo! to the wintry winds the pilot yields

His bark, careering o'er unfathom'd fields;

Now on Atlantic waves he rides afar

Where Andes, giant of the western star,

With meteor-standard to the winds unfurl'd,

Looks from his throne of clouds o'er half the world.

Poor child of danger, nursling of the storm,

Sad are the woes that wreck thy manly form!

Rocks, waves, and winds the shatter'd bark delay—

Thy heart is sad, thy home is far away.

But Hope can here her moonlight vigils keep,

And sing to charm the spirit of the deep.

Swift as yon streamer lights the starry pole,

Her visions warm the watchman's pensive soul.

His native hills that rise in happier climes;

The grot that heard his song of other times;

His cottage home, his bark of slender sail,

His glassy lake, and broomwood-blossom'd vale,

Rush in his thought; he sweeps before the wind,

And treads the shore he sigh'd to leave behind!

Pleasures of Hope.