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ANALYSIS OF PART II.
APOSTROPHE to the power of Love-its intimate connexion with generous and social Sensibility-allusion to that beautiful passage in the beginning of the book of Genesis, which represents the happiness of Paradise itself incomplete, till love was superadded to its other blessings--the dreams of future felicity which a lively imagination is apt to cherish, when Hope is animated by refined attachment—this disposition to combine, in one imaginary scene of residence, all that is pleasing in our estimate of happiness, compared to the skill of the great artist, who personified perfect beauty, in the picture of Venus, by an assemblage of the most beautiful features he could find a summer and winter evening described, as they may be supposed to arise in the mind of one who wishes, with enthusiasm, for the union of friendship and retirement.
Hope and imagination inseparable agents—even in those contemplative moments when our imagination wanders beyond the boundaries of this world, our ininds are not unattended with an impression that we shall some day have a wider and tistinct prospect of the universe, instead of the partial glimpse we now enjoy.
The last and most sublime influence of Hope, is the concluding topic of the Poem,--the predominance of a belief in a future state over the terrors attendant on dissolution—the baneful influence of that sceptical philosophy which bars us from such comforts--allusion to the fate of a suicide-Episode of Conrad and Ellenore--Conclusion.
PLEASURES OF HOPE.
In joyous youth, what soul hath never known Thought, feeling, taste, harmonious to its own? Who hath not paused while Beauty's pensive eye Asked from his heart the homage of a sigh? Who hath not owned with rapture-smitten frame, The power
grace, the magic of a name?
Who that would ask a heart to dulness wed,
Till Hymen brought his love-delighted hour, There dwelt no joy in Eden's rosy bow'r !
In vain the viewless seraph ling’ring there,
True, the sad power to generous hearts may bring
But, can the noble mind for ever brood, The willing victim of a weary mood, On heartless cares that squander life away, And cloud young Genius brightning into day? Shame to the coward thought that e'er betrayed The noon of manhood to a myrtle shade! (a) If Hope's creative spirit cannot raise One trophy sacred to thy future days, Scorn the dull crowd that haunt the gloomy shrine Of hopeless love to murmur and repine ! But, should a sigh of milder mood express Thy heart-warm wishes, true to happiness,