To the Evening Star

O meek attendant of Sol's setting blaze,

I hail, sweet star, thy chaste effulgent glow;

On thee full oft with fixéd eye I gaze

Till I, methinks, all spirit seem to grow.

O first and fairest of the starry choir,

O loveliest 'mid the daughters of the night,

Must not the maid I love like thee inspire

Pure joy and calm Delight?

Must she not be, as is thy placid sphere

Serenely brilliant? Whilst to gaze a while

Be all my wish 'mid Fancy's high career

E'en till she quit this scene of earthly toil;

Then Hope perchance might fondly sigh to join

Her spirit in thy kindred orb, O Star benign!