104
STANZAS.
TO VESPER.
FROM THE SAME
Thou! Who behold'st with dewy eye
The sleeping leaves and folded flowers,
And hear'st the night-wind lingering sigh
Thro' shadowy woods and twilight bowers;
Thou wast the signal once that seem'd to say,
Hillario's beating heart reproved my long delay.
I see thy emerald lustre stream
O'er these rude cliffs and cavern'd shore;
But here, orisons to thy beam
The woodland chantress pours no more;
Nor I, as once, thy lamp propitious hail,
Seen indistinct thro' tears; confus'd, and dim, and pale.
