Indulgent MEMORY wakes, and, lo, they live! What soften'd views thy magic glass reveals, When o'er the landscape time's meek twilight steals! Long on the wave reflected lustres play; Thy temper'd gleams of happiness resign'd Glance on the darken'd mirror of the mind. Y The School's lone porch, with reverend mosses grey, Just tells the pensive pilgrim where it lay. Up springs, at every step, to claim a tear, Some little friendship, form'd and cherish'd here! And not the lightest leaf, but trembling teems Down by yon hazel copse, at evening, blaz'd Whose dark eyes flash'd thro' locks of blackest shade, As o'er my palm the silver piece she drew, And trac'd the line of life with searching view, Ah, then, what honest triumph flush'd my breast! This truth once know....To bless is to be blest! ! We led the bending beggar on his way; (Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-grey) Sooth'd the keen pangs his aged spirit felt, As in his scrip we dropt our little store, And wept to think that little was no more, -He breath❜d his prayer, Long may such goodness live! →Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give. But hark! through those old firs, with sullen swell The church-clock strikes! ye tender scenes, farewel! It calls me hence, beneath their shade, to trace The few fond lines that Time may soon efface. On yon grey stone, that fronts the chancel-door, Worn smooth by busy feet, now seen no more, 1 Each eve we shot the marble thro' the ring, When the heart danc'd, and life was in its spring; Alas! unconscious of the kindred earth, That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth. The glow-worm loves her emerald light to shed, Hush, ye fond flutterings, hush! while here alone In Friendship's silent register ye live, But when the sons of peace and pleasure sleep, When only sorrow wakes, and wakes to weep, What spells entrance my visionary mind, With sighs so sweet, with raptures so refin'd! Ethereal power! whose smile, at noon of night, Recals the far-fled spirit of delight; Instils that musing melancholy mood, Which charms the wise, and elevates the good; Blest MEMORY, hail! Oh, grant the grateful muse, Her pencil dipt in Nature's living hues, To pass the clouds that round thy empire roll, And trace its airy precincts in the soul. Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise! Each stamps its image as the other flies As studious Prospero's mysterious spell And through the frame invisibly convey Survey the globe, each ruder realm explore; From Reason's faintest ray to Newton soar. What different spheres to human bliss assign'd! What slow gradations in the scale of mind! Yet mark in each these mystic wonders wrought; Oh mark the sleepless energies of thought! The adventurous boy, that asks his little share, And hies from home, with many a gossip's prayer, |