272 

 H E M A N S. 



The sun was sinking gorgeously and bright 

 Behind the summit of the cloud-capt hills. 

 Tinging all nature with its crimson rays ; 

 While from the bosom of the vesper wave, 

 Flashed up a flood of glory, blending sweet 

 With the deep tincture of the horizon's blue. 

 Then on the summit of a mountain lone, 

 I laid me down to gaze upon the scene 

 The glorious landscape that beneath me lay 

 In all its splendour, — 'till my raptured soul 

 Drank from fair Nature's all inspiring fount 

 A portion of her essence ! I musing then 

 On the departed spirits of our land — 

 The mighty of the mind, whose deathless songs 

 Have shed a halo round our sea-girt isle — 

 Sacred to genius I *till my phrenzied eye 

 Could trace their shadows in the aerial void 

 Flit past me through the air, at once, methought, 

 The many tinted clouds which erst had roiled 

 Above me, quick descended, 'till they wrapt 

 As with a mantle bright, the mountain's brow 

 Which trembled like an aspen; till I seem'd 

 Born upwards thro' the vast etherial plaiu 

 And onward bending mid the trackless void 

 Methought towards the portals of Heaven's gate ! 

 Before whose golden pillars dazzling bright 

 Appear'd the spirits of the mighty dead — 

 They who in life this nether world had filled 

 With harmony surpassing as to create 

 A paradise below ! — The sons of Poesy. 

 Immortal chaunters of undying song! 

 There stood they breathing of empyrean air, 

 All gazing down upon the azure space, 

 Towards the confines of this lower world. 

 Waiting to herald with celestial joy, 

 A sister spirit to her glorious home I 

 At length there bounded from amid the group, 

 As if impatient of the coming hour, 

 A godlike spirit! around whose brows 



