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" This said, he smil'd,
And gently laid me in my mother's arms.
Thus far the vision brought me—then it fled,
And all was silence. Ah! 'twas but a dream;
This soul in vain struggles for purity;
This self-tormenting essence may exist
For ever; but what joy can being give
Without perfection? vainly do I seek
That bliss for which I languish. Surely yet
The Day-spring of our nature is to come;
Mournful we wait that dawning; until then
We grovel in the dust—in midnight grope,
For ever seeking, never satisfied."
Thus spake the solemn seer, then pausing, sigh'd.
For all was darkness.
