 | Poetical Sketches |  |
SONG II.
With awe my soul the wreck of Nature views,
The storm amid the echoing mountain hears;
The sighs of Autumn, mingling with my tears,
Mourn the sad ravages which time pursues.
Hear the wild roar of the tempestuous blast,
Whirling the forest leaves to distant air!
See blooming flowers in scatter'd fragments cast,
While torrents pouring thunder on the ear!
The sun's bright beam in dreary winter lost,
Not joyless is, as me, on passion's tempests tost.
The storm amid the echoing mountain hears;
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The sighs of Autumn, mingling with my tears,
Mourn the sad ravages which time pursues.
Hear the wild roar of the tempestuous blast,
Whirling the forest leaves to distant air!
See blooming flowers in scatter'd fragments cast,
While torrents pouring thunder on the ear!
The sun's bright beam in dreary winter lost,
Not joyless is, as me, on passion's tempests tost.
My youthful charms fade 'neath my burning eyes,
The soul-entrancing morn of pleasure flies;
A raging sorrow sweeps without control
Those germs of genius which alone inspire:
The sensual passions which consum'd my soul,
Burn my distemper'd bosom with their fire.
Long lightnings glance still from my streaming eyes,
Though vain around the fiery circles roll;
Virtue and pleasure vanish from my soul;
The transient shadow of my glory flies.
The soul-entrancing morn of pleasure flies;
A raging sorrow sweeps without control
Those germs of genius which alone inspire:
The sensual passions which consum'd my soul,
Burn my distemper'd bosom with their fire.
Long lightnings glance still from my streaming eyes,
Though vain around the fiery circles roll;
Virtue and pleasure vanish from my soul;
The transient shadow of my glory flies.
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