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And ideal objects as sweetly reveals, In those beautiful visions that gladden our rest.
Methought that the trials of life were past, That the portals of heaven were gain'd at last! I drank from that fountain of happiness,
Whose crystal waters are free from alloy ; But who may number the thoughts of bliss,
Which fill'd my heart with impassion'd joy ?
I stood on the brink of that beautiful river, Whose waters flow onward forever and ever: While I breath'd the rich odors of that holy clime,
I look'd back on the path which had led me home— How light were its windings! the shadows of time
Shed none of their darkness beyond the tomb.
I awoke, and my path by the river of time, Led me on through the flowers of a changing
clime; I awoke, and the clouds that hung over my sky
Broke at once my delusion—the vision had fled! I listened—the winds, that swept mournfully by,
Seem'd chanting a requiem over the dead!
But why, I .exclaim'd, should we mourn for the
blest ? Why weep for the lov'd, who have entcr'd their