Here let me pause and fix my ardent gaze-- Faith is my star, whose ever-during rays Can guide my steps through life's surrounding gloom And cheer the paths which lie beyond the tomb; How was I lost in earth's bewildering vale When first I turned and saw that silver sail Above my dim horizon, breaking slow, When all of peace for me seem'd gone below; My world was sad and comfortless and drear Or cross'd by lights that glance and disappear; Look back, my soul, on scenes which long have passed, Think on the thousand phantoms I have chased; Count o'er the bubbles whose delusive dyes Have danced in emptiness before mine eyes; How were they followed,--won--and heedless clasp'd How fled their hues! evanished as I grasp'd!-- That last and loveliest one, whose rainbow light Will break at times on memory so bright, How did it fleet with all its fairy fires, Fanned by the breath of young and soft desires! Caught by its tinsel shine, deceptive shed, I flew, with throbbing heart and dizzied head, A giddy round, where all beneath were flowers, Where sped, with "flying feet," the laughing hours: Dissolved the charm--dispelled the brilliant dream-- Why changed to baleful shadow did it seem? What roused the madman from his trance, and left His heart a waste--of love--of joy bereft? What woke the foolish one?--unmanned his heart? Death, mid the treach'rous scene, did sudden start, And o'er my light of love his breath expires, It pales--it fades--extinguish'd are its fires! But now, how blest the change! there is a power Can foil e'en death--can rob his only hour Of half its sting--can even deck with charms The cold embrace of his sepulchral arms: 'Tis but the transient sinful passport this, To "joys unspeakable and full of bliss;" 'Tis but a short,--convulsive,--fitful thrill,-- A momentary pang,--a sudden chill;-- When free, the disembodied spirit flies Where, incorruptible, it never dies; To scenes the Patmos prophet, glowing paints, Where near the jasper seat adore the saints, Where bow of emerald circles round a throne In glory brighter than the sardine stone! Yet hold!--nor thus as if in scorn my soul Still break from earth and spurn its dull control; Why wilt thou bound away through paths of ether, Swift as "young roes upon thy mountains, Bether?" Turn--turn to earth, the blinded vision fails,-- We must not look beyond those sapphire veils, Which mercy spreads in beauty o'er the skies, To spare the weakness of unhallow'd eyes; Oh, check the thought which soars, presumptuous man! Nor dare the heights that thou must never scan.