olved.
Like mist that flits before the solar car,
Or the wan splendours of a falling star,
The scene dispers'd; and at his side, return'd,
The heavenly Guide in all his radiance burn'd.

A smile, with love and calm affection fraught,
The Seraph gave, as by the hand he caught
Th' admiring Exile: then the earth forsook,
And thro' dividing clouds his easy journey took.

Above the skies on silent wings upborne,
They seek the quarter of the rising morn,
And, wheeling thro' the stars their level flight,
On a tall mountain's cloudless top alight.

Beneath, a boundless realm in prospect lay;
Fair as the regions of perpetual day
Wide stretch'd the peaceful vale. A brighter sun
Thro' purer skies his azure course begun,
And, uneclips'd, along th' etherial road
A host of stars with rival splendours glow'd.
Far to the west, with dewy spangles gay,
Long tracts of meads reflect the orient ray;
Collected fragrance breathes in every gale,
And harvests nod on every yellow dale.
The southern plain a lordly city crown'd:
Its ample range with marble turrets frown'd.
The golden spires with pointed radiance glow'd;
From tower to tower the pure effulgence flow'd.
The lofty gates for ever open stood,
And o'er the region pour'd a living flood.
Their dusky sides by piny groves conceal'd,
A range of snow-capp'd hills the north reveal'd:
Amidst the dark-brow'd woods with murmurs hoarse
A thousand torrents took their foamy course.
The eastern limit show'd a spacious bay;
Blue Ocean redden'd in the morning ray:
Reflected lustre crown'd the chalky steep,
And stately navies darkened half the deep.
From the tall hill, beneath the sunny beam,
Three rivers, issuing, pour a various stream,
Now thro' the lawns in parted currents glide,
And now, uniting, spread an equal tide.
Unnumber'd tints the forest-boughs unfold,
And the bright waters seem to roll in gold.

Successive wonders on the Exile's breast
A visionary strange amaze impress'd;
New hopes, new fears, his trembling bosom throng,
Doubt follows doubt, and thought drives thought along.
When now the Angel, with that awful grace,
That waits on spirits of celestial race,
On the pale mortal lost in dark surprize,
Fix'd the keen radiance of his sun-like eyes:
Mild were his looks: y