—­Now o’er the soothed accordant heart we feel
  A sympathetic twilight slowly steal,
  And ever, as we fondly muse, we find
  The soft gloom deepening on the tranquil mind. 
  Stay! pensive, sadly-pleasing visions, stay! 320
  Ah no! as fades the vale, they fade away: 
  Yet still the tender, vacant gloom remains;
  Still the cold cheek its shuddering tear retains.

    The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread
  Silent the hedge or steamy rivulet’s bed, [92] 325
  From his grey re-appearing tower shall soon
  Salute with gladsome note the rising moon,
  While with a hoary light she frosts the ground,
  And pours a deeper blue to Aether’s bound;
  Pleased, as she moves, her pomp of clouds to fold 330
  In robes of azure, fleecy-white, and gold. [93]

    Above yon eastern hill, [94] where darkness broods
  O’er all its vanished dells, and lawns, and woods;
  Where but a mass of shade the sight can trace,
  Even now she shows, half-veiled, her lovely face:  [95] 335
  Across [96] the gloomy valley flings her light,
  Far to the western slopes with hamlets white;
  And gives, where woods the chequered upland strew,
  To the green corn of summer, autumn’s hue.

  Thus Hope, first pouring from her blessed horn 340
  Her dawn, far lovelier than the moon’s own morn,
  ’Till higher mounted, strives in vain to cheer
  The weary hills, impervious, blackening near;
  Yet does she still, undaunted, throw the while
  On darling spots remote her tempting smile. 345

  Even now she decks for me a distant scene,
  (For dark and broad the gulf of time between)
  Gilding that cottage with her fondest ray,
  (Sole bourn, sole wish, sole object of my way; 350
  How fair its lawns and sheltering [97] woods appear! 
  How sweet its streamlet murmurs in mine ear!)
  Where we, my Friend, to happy [98] days shall rise,
  ’Till our small share of hardly-paining sighs
  (For sighs will ever trouble human breath) 355
  Creep hushed into the tranquil breast of death.

  But now the clear bright Moon her zenith gains,
  And, rimy without speck, extend the plains: 
  The deepest cleft the mountain’s front displays [99]
  Scarce hides a shadow from her searching rays; 360
  From the dark-blue faint silvery threads divide
  The hills, while gleams below the azure tide;
  Time softly treads; throughout the landscape breathes
  A peace enlivened, not disturbed, by wreaths
  Of charcoal-smoke, that o’er the fallen wood, 365
  Steal down the hill, and spread along the flood.[100]