Egaeus, 43

He was a young enthusiast: he would gaze
for hours upon the face of the night world,To watch silent stars, or the bright moon moving in her unearthly loveliness; And dream of worlds of bliss for pure souls hid in their far orbs.At other times he loved to listen to the mountain torrents roar,To look on nature in many forms, and sympathize with all; To hold sweet converse in secret with the genius of the stream,The fountain or the forest, and to pour
his rapture forth in some fond gush of song;And in lone walks and sweetly pensive musings he would create new worlds and people themWith fond hearts and sweet sounds and sights of beauty.
He had longed to leave some great memorial of himself, which mightWin for him an imperishable name. His path was bright and and with honor, he had a nameAnd hearts that loved him and could sympathizeIn all his joys, he was perchance too happy;
For love had not yet swept with fiery hand Over his chords of feeling, calling forth for one short moment all their melody,Then leaving them forever mute and broken.He was greatly involved with ways of life But oh! How soon and entirely faded all else when his gaze hadFallen upon a form of youth and beauty,A maiden in her simple loveliness, with locks of gold and cheeksAll rich with artless smiles and natural bloom!He saw her only, thought of her alone;But now it was on other charms he dwelt,Her thoughts, her tastes, her feelingsThese must be so full of mind, of gracefulness and nature,Blended with such retiring timidness, they riveted the chain her beauty wove.Now what had he, but hope and love?Her image became twined into his being,His musings were of her, of her his dreams,She was the star in his idolatry, but like a star he might deem her all too highTo bow to love for him. Yet he could only hope on.His mind awoke; its powers were impairedHe knew the world again and he was the enthusiast no more.