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TO THE EVENING STAR.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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67

TO THE EVENING STAR.

When Day had slept, and all was dark,
And Nature, in her summer glade,
Had watch'd till sad, the solar spark,
That left no grotted shade;
'Till, as Night came in sable vest,
And clasp'd the mourner to his breast,
Thou rose, in light array'd!
How did that pair then start, to see
Their amours broken thus, by thee;
And with an awe they only knew
When kneeling to the eternal throne,
Her flow'ry vestment Nature threw,
Whilst Night declared that Day had gone,
And cast his sable garment down.
They gazed, 'till more intensely bright,
Each beauty of thy form was seen;
Still glowing—'till with even light,
Thou sat'st an element serene,
Amid a throne of liquid blue;
Whilst Phœbus as night drew his skreen,
Thy beauty and his gaze between,
Fond looks enamour'd threw;
And passion—fired erects his hair—
Then crimsoning the western wave,
And rushing forth to meet thee there,
That look of thrilling fondness gave,

68

Which still, altho' his ray be set
Will linger round thee yet!
Whilst Winter, wrapt in curling snow,
Pure as the wreath on morning's brow,
Startled, with anxious eye upturn'd,
And watch'd with look of wistful glow,
The magic light that o'er him burn'd—
And now no more, where all is dark,
His car shall ride the angry wind!
He dreams not as he views thy spark,
Of the soft climes he leaves behind:
And still he sees whilst borne away
To realms that own eternal snow,
In one undying, cloudless ray,
The light that mantles o'er his brow.
Nor did they gaze alone with awe,
For soon beneath thy milder light,
They saw the form of Day withdraw,
Then sought beneath thy gentle ray,
Those pleasing joys to taste, that they—
Had dared not in his sight.
So kindly watchful didst thou prove,
(Thus toying 'neath a myrtle tree)
For furthering the cause of Love,
They gave the name of Love to thee.

69

And there is sadness in thy smile,
Yet pleasing, for we well may deem
That there is one with gentle wile,
Who loves with equal beam.
Thou wert not doom'd to walk alone,
In silence round th' eternal throne!
Oh! no! far in the distant west
A little twinkler sheds his ray,
And bids with meek and filial breast
A farewel to departing day.
Yet, hardly seen, upon the fleece
That marks the sun's still ling'ring robe,
How do their tinsel forms increase
Upon the mantle of the globe!
Now stealing outwards, one by one
In silent majesty, each light—
And take their places 'neath thy view,
As regularly form'd, and bright,
As when in orbs of matchless blue,
They rose before the Creator's sight!
They gaze in pride and wonder, round
The heavens above, their own vast bound,
And lastly on the lesser ground;
Yet turning still, they own no grace
Can equal that which lights thy face!
Come, when the night with low'ring brow
And threat'ning look, portending wrath,

70

Ordains the tempest's breath to go
And scatter whirlwinds on its path:
Come thou, and in the ray that's shed
By thee, around the Pilgrim's head,
That, tho' the God of storms, conspires
To fill the skies with liquid fires,
Still bids him look with humble eye,
To that offended majesty,
And learn that, emblems station'd high,
Thy fellow lights and self must prove,
That God is still a God of love!
Thus symbols of himself, ye glow
With equal love, and he may see,
In this your calm and even flow,
A light to guide him, following thee.
 

Venus, evening star at this period.