XX.

"Along yon glittering sky what glory streams! What majesty attends Night's lovely queen! Fair laugh our valleys in the vernal beams; And mountains rise, and oceans roll between, And all conspire to beautify the scene. But, in the mental world, what chaos drear! What forms of mournful, loathsome, furious mien! O when shall that eternal morn appear, These dreadful forms to chase, this chaos dark to clear!