'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue. - Thomas Campbell

Can all that optics teach, unfold Thy form to please me so, As when I dreamt of gems and gold Hid in thy radiant bow? When Science from Creation's face Enchantment's veil withdraws, What lovely visions yield their place To cold material laws! And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, But words of the Most High, Have told why first thy robe of beams Was woven in the sky.

Without the smile from partial beauty won,
Oh what were man? — a world without a sun.

Oh, how hard it is to find
The one just suited to our mind!