the pursuit.
15
A wandering meteor, which pursued
Would still the following step elude;
A painted charm from Circe's bower,
Which, like the bow in summer shower
Would gleam across the gloomy sky,
Then fade upon the baffled eye,
And leave it aching to deplore
Those colours which are bright no more:
But yet a whisper from within
Urg'd me this shadowy prize to win;
Each heart with life's warm current fraught
Must still pursue some favorite thought;
And never must the heaving breast
Till the last silence, hope to rest:
Nay, even in the hermit's cell,
Where dank oblivion seems to dwell,
Scattering her slumb'rous dews around,
And shedding thick her mists profound,
Would still the following step elude;
A painted charm from Circe's bower,
Which, like the bow in summer shower
Would gleam across the gloomy sky,
Then fade upon the baffled eye,
And leave it aching to deplore
Those colours which are bright no more:
But yet a whisper from within
Urg'd me this shadowy prize to win;
Each heart with life's warm current fraught
Must still pursue some favorite thought;
And never must the heaving breast
Till the last silence, hope to rest:
Nay, even in the hermit's cell,
Where dank oblivion seems to dwell,
Scattering her slumb'rous dews around,
And shedding thick her mists profound,
