Summer-Evening, A

Come, my dear Love, and let us climb yon hill,     The prospect, from its height, will well reward     The toil of climbing; thence we shall command     The various beauties of the landscape round.     Now we have reached the top. O! what a scene     Opens upon the sight, and swallows up     The admiring soul! She feels as if from earth     Uplifted into heaven. Scarce can she yet     Collect herself, and exercise her powers.     While o'er heaven's lofty, wide-extended arch,     And round the vast horizon, the bold eye     Shoots forth her view, with what sublime delight     The bosom swells! See, where the God of day,     Who through the cloudless ether long has rid     On his bright, fiery car, amidst a blaze     Of dazzling glory, and in wrath shot round     His burning arrows, with tyrannic power     Oppressing Nature, now, his daily course     Well-nigh completed, toward the western goal     Declines, and with less awful majesty     Concludes his reign; his flamy chariot hid     In floods of golden light that dazzles still,     Though less intense. O! how these scenes exalt     The throbbing heart! Louisa, canst thou bear     These strong emotions? do they not o'erpower     Thy tender nerves? I fear, my Love, they do;     Those eyes that, late, with transport beam'd so bright,     Now veil their rays with the soft, dewy shade     Of tenderness. Let us repose awhile;     The roots of yonder tree, cover'd with moss,     Present a pleasing seat; there let us sit.     Hark! Zephyr wakes, and sweetly-whispering, tells     The approach of Eve; already Nature feels     Her soothing influence, her refreshing breath;     The fields, the trees, imbibe the cool, moist air,     Their feverish thirst allay, and smile revived.     The Soul, too, feels her influence, sweetly soothed     Into a tender calm. O! let us now,     My loved Louisa! let us now enjoy     The landscape's charms, and all the nameless sweets     Of this, our favourite hour, for ever dear     To Fancy and to Love. Cast round thy sight     Upon the altered scene, nor longer fear     The dazzling sun; his latest, lingering beams     Where are they? can'st thou find them? see! they gild     The glittering top of yonder village-spire;     Upon that distant hill they faintly shine;     And look! the topmost boughs of this tall oak     Majestic, which o'ercanopies our heads,     Yet catch their tremulous glimmerings: now they fade,     Fade and expire; and, as they fade, the Moon,     The full-orb'd Moon, that seem'd, erewhile, to melt     In the bright azure, from the darkening sky     Emerging slow, and silent, sheds around     Her snowy light, that with the day's last, dim     Reflection, from the broad, translucid lake,     Insensibly commingles, and unites     In sweetest harmony, o'er all the scene     Diffusing magic tints, enchanting power.     How lovely every object now appears!     Each in itself, and how they all combine     In one delightful whole! What eye, what heart,     O Nature! can resist thy potent charms     When thus in soft, transparent shade half-veil'd?     Now Beauty and Sublimity, methinks,     Upon the lap of Eve, embracing sleep.     Mark the tree-tops, my Love, of yonder wood,     Whose moonlight foliage fluctuates in the breeze,     Say, do they not, in figure, motion, hue,     Resemble the sea-waves at misty dawn?     What shadowy shape along the troubled lake     Comes this way moving? how mysteriously     It glides along! how indistinct its form!     Imagination views with sweet surprise     The unknown appearance breathless in suspense.     The Spirit of the waters can it be,     On his aerial car? some fairy Power?     Pants not thy heart, Louisa, half-alarm'd?     It grows upon the sight, strange, watery sounds     Attend its course; hark! was not that a voice?     O! 'tis a fishing-boat! its sails and oars     I now discern. The church-clock strikes! how loud     Burst forth its sound into the startled air,     That feels it still, and trembles far around!     My dearest Love! it summons us away;     The dew begins to fall; let us depart:     How sweetly have we spent this evening-hour!