The southern sun shot down his fiery flood.
Recent from toil, the weary peasant-train
Reclined their languid limbs along the plain,
Or dragg'd their idle steps along the soil,
To watch the mountain-miner's distant toil.
Here first Ernestus paused, and gazing round,
Traced the wide scene, and measured all the ground.
At length, his search determined to delay
'Till deepening twilight quench the crimson ray,
On the cool grass his weary limbs he threw,
While future years rose imaged to his view,
From hope to hope his mind enraptur'd pass'd,
And every hope seem'd brighter than the last.
So the swift eagle, with exulting wings,
Freed from his cage, thro' echoing ether springs;
Towers, cities, hills recede, untired he flies,
Cleaves the blue space, and gains upon the skies:
There wantons in the warm expanse of day,
And drinks, with kindling eyes, the sun's accustomed ray.

Meanwhile the guardian genius round him pours
Celestial dews, and nature's strength restores;
His swimming eyes to balmy sleep resign'd,
And fancy bore sweet visions to his mind.

'Twas now the time, when sober Evening sheds
Her dusky mantle o'er the grassy meads:
Nor yet the pale stars trembled thro' the trees,
Nor sparkling quiver'd on the inconstant seas;
Nor yet the moon illumed the solemn scene: