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While all its newly waken'd feelings prove
That Love is Heaven, and God the Soul of Love;
In such sweet times the spirit rambles forth
Beyond the precincts of this grov'ling earth,
Expatiates in a brighter world than this,
And plunging in the future's dread abyss,
Proves an existence separate and refin'd
By leaving its frail tenement behind.
So felt our Basil, as he sat the while,
Guiding his boat beneath the moonbeam's smile,
For there are thoughts which God alike has given
To high and low—and these are, thoughts of Heaven.
Pau'loing.
That Love is Heaven, and God the Soul of Love;
In such sweet times the spirit rambles forth
Beyond the precincts of this grov'ling earth,
Expatiates in a brighter world than this,
And plunging in the future's dread abyss,
Proves an existence separate and refin'd
By leaving its frail tenement behind.
So felt our Basil, as he sat the while,
Guiding his boat beneath the moonbeam's smile,
For there are thoughts which God alike has given
To high and low—and these are, thoughts of Heaven.
Pau'loing.
Mankind are too apt to judge of measures solely by events; and to connect wisdom with good fortune, and folly with disaster.
The spell is broke, the charm is flown!
Thus is it with life's fitful fever:
We madly smile when we should groan;
Delirium is our best deceiver.
Each lucid interval of thought
Recalls the woes of Nature's charter,
And he that acts as wise men ought,
But lives, as saints have died, a martyr,
Byron.
Thus is it with life's fitful fever:
We madly smile when we should groan;
Delirium is our best deceiver.
Each lucid interval of thought
Recalls the woes of Nature's charter,
And he that acts as wise men ought,
But lives, as saints have died, a martyr,
Byron.
