_Ob. 1836: æt. 23._
Oh! for my bright and faded hours
When life was like a summer stream,
On whose gay banks the virgin flowers
Blush'd in the morning's rosy beam;
Or danced upon the breeze that bare
Its store of rich perfume along,
While the wood-robin pour'd on air
The ravishing delights of song.
The sun look'd from his lofty cloud,
While flow'd its sparkling waters fair--
And went upon his pathway proud,
And threw a brighter lustre there;
And smiled upon the golden heaven,
And on the earth's sweet loveliness,
Where light, and joy, and song were given,
The glad and fairy scene to bless!
Ah! these were bright and joyous hours,
When youth awoke from boyhood's dream,
To see life's Eden dress'd in flowers,
While young hope bask'd in morning's beam!
And proffer'd thanks to heaven above,
While glow'd his fond and grateful breast,
Who spread for him that scene of love
And made him, so supremely blest!
That scene of love!--where hath it gone?
Where have its charms and beauty sped?
My hours of youth, that o'er me shone--
Where have their light and splendour fled?
Into the silent lapse of years--
And I am left on earth to mourn:
And I am left to drop my tears
O'er memory's lone and icy urn!
Yet why pour forth the voice of wail
O'er feeling's blighted coronal?
Ere many gorgeous suns shall fail,
I shall be gather'd in my pall;
Oh, my dark hours on earth are few--
My hopes are crush'd, my heart is riven;--
And I shall soon bid life adieu,
To seek enduring joys in heaven!