'Along yon glittering sky what glory streams! 'What majesty attends night's lovely queen! 'Fair laugh our vallies in the vernal beams; 'And mountains rise, and oceans roll between, 'And all conspire to beautify the scene. 'But, in the mental world, what chaos drear! 'What forms of mournful, loathsome, furious mien! 'O when shall that eternal morn appear, 'These dreadful forms to chace, this chaos dark to clear! XXI. 'O Thou, at whose creative smile, yon heaven, 'In all the pomp of beauty, life, and light, 'Rose from the abyss; when dark Confusion, driven 'Down down the bottomless profound of night, 'Fled, where he ever flies thy piercing sight! 'O glance on these sad shades one pitying ray, 'To blast the fury of oppressive might, 'Melt the hard heart to love and mercy's sway, 'And cheer the wandering soul, and light him on the way.' XXII. Silence ensued: and Edwin raised his eyes In tears, for grief lay heavy at his heart. 'And is it thus in courtly life,' (he cries) 'That man to man acts a betrayer's part? 'And dares he thus the gifts of heaven pervert, 'Each social instinct, and sublime desire? 'Hail Poverty! if honour, wealth, and art, 'If what the great pursue, and learned admire, 'Thus dissipate and quench the soul's ethereal fire!' XXIII. He said, and turned away; nor did the Sage O'erhear, in silent orisons employed. The Youth, his rising sorrow to assuage, Home as he hied, the evening scene enjoyed: For now no cloud obscures the starry void; The yellow moonlight sleeps on all the hills; Nor is the mind with startling sounds annoyed; A soothing murmur the lone region fills, Of groves, and dying gales, and melancholy rills. XXIV. But he, from day to day, more anxious grew. The voice still seemed to vibrate on his ear. Nor durst he hope the Hermit's tale untrue; For man he seemed to love, and heaven to fear; And none speaks false, where there is none to hear. 'Yet, can man's gentle heart become so fell? 'No more in vain conjecture let me wear 'My hours away, but seek the Hermit's cell; 'Tis he my doubt can clear, perhaps my care dispel.' XXV. At early dawn the youth his journey took, And many a mountain passed, and valley wide, Then reached the wild; where, in a flowery nook, And seated on a mossy stone, he spied An ancient man: his harp lay him beside. A stag sprang from the pasture at his call, And, kneeling, licked the withered hand, that tied A wreath of woodbine round his antlers tall, And hung his lofty neck with many a floweret small. XXVI.