On Approaching Paris 1826

We journey'd on !--the twilight star Shone, in its tranquil beauty, o'er us; While, with its thousand lights, afar The glitt'ring city lay before us. Oh! never o'er an ev'ning's close Sank more serene, and sweet repose! So lingeringly the sun-set ray Had faded from the west away, It seem'd as if the Fire-God met His parting moment with regret; The voices of the winds were still, And breath'd no sigh on bow'r or hill; There was not ev'n the slightest cloud The heavens clear depth of blue to shroud; But all things wore that peaceful mood, Which wins the soul to solitude-- And it might well the spirit grieve Such scene's soft quietude to leave, To mix with restless crowds again, Amidst the wildering haunts of men; Where warring interests wear away The best affections,--and decay The links of confidence,--and steal The springs of life from hearts that feel. In sadness at the thought, I turn'd To mark the countless fires that burn'd Along the distance--flashing high, From tow'r, and wall their radiancy; For different, as the changing glare, Of the red, fitful gleamings there, To the pure planet's holy light, Which o'er us beam'd, so calmly bright, The throng'd resorts, where thousands press To snatch the spoils of selfishness, To Nature's still seclusions are, By God to Man, in goodness giv'n, Where Vice not yet hath dar'd to mar, The blest, and stainless gifts of heav'n!