“Ye righteous Powers, whoe’er ye are, who guide
    Earth’s changeful tumult, and its cares divide;
    Who rule mankind with absolute decree,
    And grace the bless’d with good, unknown to me: 
    To you I pray not:  Your afflicting hand }
    Has given the sign to quit this earthly strand:  }
    I bow with joy to your implied command! }
    Yes—­in the bosom of eternal fate
    Some real joys, perhaps, my soul await: 
    Some peace may yet be mine—­some powerful rock,
    Unmoved by terror, or misfortune’s shock;
    Some vale of calmness, some sequester’d shore,
    Where hope, and fear, and sorrow, are no more.

      “My soul, thro’ endless ages doom’d to live,
    A quenchless flame, must every sphere survive: 
    Whence, then, these sorrows in her mortal times;
    Chain’d down to woe, ere yet involved in crimes? 
    This cloud unpierced, that darkens all her way? 
    Is this the dawn of an eternal day?—­
    Death, death alone, can chase th’ unfathom’d gloom,
    And light the mazes of my doubtful doom!”

      He spoke; and gazing on the watery grave. 
    Approach’d with tranquil step the fatal wave,
    Where the green verge with easy slope descends,
    And, rippling on the sand, the water ends. 
    When lo! some power, with deep resistless force,
    Check’d his firm soul, and stopp’d his fearless course;
    He felt its languid influence thro’ his breast,
    And, stretch’d in sleep, the grassy margin press’d;
    His weary soul to balmy rest resign’d,
    And fancy bore these visions to his mind.

      On a broad bank, alone, he seem’d to stand,
    Whose flowery limit closed a spacious land. 
    Around, the cultured plains appeared to glow
    With various hues:  a river roll’d below: 
    Unvex’d by storms, the tranquil waters ran: 
    On heaven’s blue verge calm shines the mounting sun. 
    As waken’d from a dream of woe, amazed,
    On woods, and skies, and murmuring streams, he gazed: 
    Calm, silent raptures flow’d thro’ all his breast,
    And seem’d the foretaste of eternal rest.

      His eye, now settled, mark’d a little boat,
    Which on the nearest waves appear’d to float: 
    Its airy sail with snow-white radiance blazed;
    Its blue prow tinged the waters.—­As he gazed,
    Lo! the clouds opened, and with sudden glare
    A dazzling form descended thro’ the air. 
    Swift as a sea-bird darting o’er the deep,
    Or meteor hovering with aerial sweep,
    He flew, and lighting radiant on the helm,
    Cast a bright shadow o’er the watery realm. 
    He waved his hand; the Exile took the sign,
    Embark’d, and join’d the messenger divine.