Time's stern resistless torrent onward flows,

The restless waves above your labours close,

And He who bids the bounding billows roll

Sweeps out the feeble record from the soul.

The glorious hues that flush the evening sky

Melt into night, and on her bosom die;

[Pg 26]

Through the wide fields of heaven's immensity

The gold-tipped billows of that crimson sea

Flash on the awe-struck gazer's dazzled sight,

The rich out-gushings from the fount of light;

Yet oft, concealed beneath that splendid form,

We hail the herald of the coming storm;

The fiery spirit over half a globe

Spreads the bright tissue of his beamy robe,

And, ere the day-king veils his glowing crest,

Shrouds the dark tempest in his burning vest;

O'er earth and heaven his gorgeous banner flings,

And gilds with borrowed light his sable wings—

And those who view with rapture-lifted eyes

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