Land of delights! ah, dear delusive coast, To these fond aged eyes forever lost! No more thy flowery vales I travel o'er, For me thy mountains rear the head no more, For me thy rocks no sparkling gems unfold, Nor streams luxuriant wear their paths in gold; From realms of promised peace forever borne, I hail mute anguish, and in secret mourn. But dangers past, a world explored in vain, And foes triumphant show but half my pain. Dissembling friends, each early joy who gave, And fired my youth the storms of fate to brave, Swarm'd in the sunshine of my happier days, Pursued the fortune and partook the praise, Now pass my cell with smiles of sour disdain, Insult my woes and triumph in my pain. One gentle guardian once could shield the brave; But now that guardian slumbers in the grave. Hear from above, thou dear departed shade; As once my hopes, my present sorrows aid, Burst my full heart, afford that last relief, Breathe back my sighs and reinspire my grief; Still in my sight thy royal form appears, Reproves my silence and demands my tears. Even on that hour no more I joy to dwell, When thy protection bade the canvass swell; When kings and churchmen found their factions vain, Blind superstition shrunk beneath her chain, The sun's glad beam led on the circling way, And isles rose beauteous in Atlantic day. For on those silvery shores, that new domain, What crowds of tyrants fix their murderous reign! Her infant realm indignant Freedom flies, Truth leaves the world, and Isabella dies. Ah, lend thy friendly shroud to veil my sight, That these pain'd eyes may dread no more the light; These welcome shades shall close my instant doom, And this drear mansion moulder to a tornb. Thus mourn'd the hapless man: a thundering sound Roll'd thro the shuddering walls and shook the ground; O'er all the dungeon, where black arches bend, The roofs unfold, and streams of light descend; The growing splendor fills the astonish'd room, And gales etherial breathe a glad perfume. Robed in the radiance, moves a form serene, Of human structure, but of heavenly mien; Near to the prisoner's couch he takes his stand, And waves, in sign of peace, his holy hand. Tall rose his stature, youth's endearing grace Adorn'd his limbs and brighten'd in his face; Loose o'er his locks the star of evening hung, And sounds melodious moved his cheerful tongue: Rise, trembling chief, to scenes of rapture rise; This voice awaits thee from the western skies; Indulge no longer that desponding strain, Nor count thy toils, nor deem thy virtues vain. Thou seest in me the guardian Power who keeps The new found world that skirts Atlantic deeps, Hesper my name, my seat the brightest throne In night's whole heaven, my sire the living sun, My brother Atlas with his name divine Stampt the wild wave; the solid coast is mine.