The moon had passed, & the evning still found Julia lost
in pleasing revery, & tender recollection--
"Days of my youth!" she exclaimed--'Ye are gone! Your [?]
visions, your ardent hopes, all, all have
gone, & proved as fleeting & unsubstantial as those light clouds
which float over yonder sky.--Ye, painted & beautiful vapours!
resplendant with the noon day sun,
your varying & evanescent forms, your soft & glowing clours,
are but the embodied breathe of nature; extractions from
the earthy, too etheral for those lower regions.
Disengaged from grosser matter, ye asend to heaven take the
sighings of the heart,--the breathings of a sould dissatisfied with
the low born pleasures, & as piring after immortality. For what
but vapours pointed by a brilliant Fancy; what but every
varying forms, are the fond hopes--the glowing pleasures
of human life!
The morning & the noon are past, the day is closing--the
clouds follow the setting sun, & settle round the horizon.
Down shall his fiery orb sink from sight, but his lingering
rays will still paint the cloudes & diffuse over the landscape
a rich & mellow light.
Ye, days of my life! your bright mornin ghas gone,
your meridian shall soon be past & when its evening
comes, will yet some pleasures, hopes & affections cluster
round its close, like these light clouds round the closing day?
Shall the lingering affections of life, paint its last
scenes & warm its last hours, with such
a warm glow as the departed sun leaves behind?
Or like the black thunder storm which so often terminates the brightest
days of summer, shall the evening of my life be darkened by disappointment
& sorrow? Yes surely this will be so. For, not more certaintly do those clouds beautiful as
they are, carry within their bosoms the elements of storms, than, are
hidden within your dearest joys, the principles of affection.
My life has indeed been like a summer's day, glowing with the
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