Could I from this valley drear, Where the mist hangs heavily, Soar to some more blissful sphere, Ah! how happy should I be! Distant hills enchant my sight, Ever young and ever fair; To those hills I'd take my flight Had I wings to scale the air. Harmonies mine ear assail, Tunes that breathe a heavenly calm; And the gently-sighing gale Greets me with its fragrant balm. Peeping through the shady bowers, Golden fruits their charms display. And those sweetly-blooming flowers Ne'er become cold winter's prey. In you endless sunshine bright, Oh! what bliss 'twould be to dwell! How the breeze on yonder height Must the heart with rapture swell! Yet the stream that hems my path Checks me with its angry frown, While its waves, in rising wrath, Weigh my weary spirit down. See--a bark is drawing near, But, alas, the pilot fails! Enter boldly--wherefore fear? Inspiration fills its sails, Faith and courage make thine own,-- Gods ne'er lend a helping-hand; 'Tis by magic power alone Thou canst reach the magic land! EVENING. (AFTER A PICTURE.) Oh! thou bright-beaming god, the plains are thirsting, Thirsting for freshening dew, and man is pining; Wearily move on thy horses-- Let, then, thy chariot descend! Seest thou her who, from ocean's crystal billows, Lovingly nods and smiles?--Thy heart must know her! Joyously speed on thy horses,-- Tethys, the goddess, 'tis nods! Swiftly from out his flaming chariot leaping, Into her arms he springs,--the reins takes Cupid,-- Quietly stand the horses, Drinking the cooling flood. Now from the heavens with gentle step descending, Balmy night appears, by sweet love followed; Mortals, rest ye, and love ye,-- Phoebus, the loving one, rests! THE PILGRIM.