Thespia I: How sweet, in Spring, the twilight Dawn

How sweet, in Spring, the twilight Dawn!
The woods imbrown'd, and humid lawn;
The crimson streaks which deck the sky,
The wide-stretch'd plain, and mountain high!
But when the Sun unveils his face,
The Landscape glows with heighten'd grace.

Should raging Tempests Heaven deform,
If, final Victor, of the Storm,
The same illustrious Lord of day
Full blazes with triumphant ray,
All Nature owns his influence bright,
And bends before the glorious light.

Nursed by his warmth, the latent grain
With future harvests gilds the plain.
His power pervades the deeper Mine,
And moulds the Embryo Gem to shine.

See Youth, exulting in his May!
What new-born joys before Him play!
His sprightly feet expatiate round,
And all He sees is Fairy ground.
When Love unfolds his pinions nigh,
And wafts his Soul to extasy.

Say, that Adversity should bring
Her livid plagues, her Scorpion sting?
And the collected venom dart
Remorseless, on the Human heart?
Love soothes to rest it's fiercest pain,
And gives it vital strength again.

Each softer energy refined
He kindles in the darken'd Mind;
And from their hidden seat calls forth
The zealous deeds of generous Worth.

Thou pure Enlightener of the breast,
Oh! shine thro' all my life confest!
Nor cease thy gentler warmth to shed
In latest Evening on my head!
There let thy beams still ling'ring fall,
Till Fate's black gloom incloses All!