III.

Upon a mountain's dizzy height,
Ambition's temple gleams with light:
Proud forms are moving fair within,
And bid us strive that light to win.
O'er giddy cliff and crag we strain,
And reach the mountain top--in vain!
For lo! the temple, still afar,
Shines cold and distant as a star.


IV.

I hear a voice, whose accents dear
Melt, like soft music, in mine ear.
A gentle hand, that seems divine,
Is warmly, fondly clasped in mine;
And lips upon my cheeks are pressed,
That whisper tones from regions blest:
But soon I start--for friendship's kiss
Is gone, and lo! a serpent's hiss.


V.

The sun goes down, and shadows rest
On the gay scenes by morning blest;
The gathering clouds invest the air--
Yet one bright constant Star is there.