Hope, like the short-liv'd ray that gleams awhile

Hope, like the short-liv'd ray that gleams awhile
Through wintry skies upon the frozen waste,
Cheers e'en the face of misery to a smile;
But soon the momentary pleasure's past!

How oft, my Delia! since our last farewell,
(Years that have roll'd since that distressful hour,)
Griev'd I have said, when most our hopes prevail
Our promis'd happiness is least secure.

Oft I have thought the scene of troubles closed,
And hop'd once more to gaze upon your charms;
As oft some dire mischance has interposed,
And snatch'd th' expected blessing from my arms.

The seaman thus, his shatter'd vessel lost.
Still vainly strives to shun the threat'ning death;
And while he thinks to gain the friendly coast,
And drops his feet, and feels the sands beneath:

Borne by the wave, steep-sloping from the shore,
Back to th' inclement deep again he beats
The surge aside, and seems to tread secure;
And now the refluent wave his baffled toil defeats.

Had you, my love, forbade me to pursue
My fond attempt, disdainfully retired,
And with proud scorn compell'd me to subdue
Th' ill-fated passion by yourself inspired;

Then haply to some distant spot removed,
Hopeless to gain, unwilling to molest
With fond entreaties whom I dearly loved,
Despair or absence had redeem'd my rest.

But now, sole partner in my Delia's heart,
Yet doom'd far off in exile to complain,
Eternal absence cannot ease my smart,
And hope subsists but to prolong my pain.

Oh then! kind heav'n, be this my latest breath;
Here end my life, or make it worth my care;
Absence from whom we love is worse than death,
And frustrate hope severer than despair.