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Indulgent MEMORY wakes, and, lo, they live!
The School's lone porch, with reverend mosses grey,
And not the lightest leaf, but trembling teems
Down by yon hazel copse, at evening, blaz'd The Gipsy's faggot....there we stood and gaz'd; Gaz'd on her sun-burnt face with silent awe, Her tatter'd mantle, and her hood of straw; Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er; The drowsy brood that on her back she bore ; Imps, in the barn with mousing owlet bred, From rifled roost at nightly revel fed; Whose dark eyes flash'd thro' locks of blackest shade, When in the breeze the distant watch-dog bay'd ; And heroes fled the Sybil's mutter'd call, Whose elfin prowess scald the orchard-wall. As o'er my palm the silver piece she drew, And trac'd the line of life with searching view, How throbb'd my fluttering pulse with hopes and fears, To learn the colour of
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, And on his tale with mute attention dwelt. 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, 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 I search the records of each mouldering stone. Guides of my life ! Instructors of my youtl: ! Who first unveil'd the hallow'd form of Truth ; Whose every word enlightend and endear'd; In age belov'd, in poverty rever'd ; In Friendship's silent register ye live, Nor ask the vain memorial Art can give,
But when the sons of peace and pleasure sleep,
Ethereal power! whose smile, at noon of night, Recals the far-fied 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.
Lulld 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 !
Survey the globe, each ruder realm explore ; | From Reason's faintest ray to Newton soar.
What different spheres to human bliss assigna!
The adventurous boy, that asks his little share, And hies from home, with many a gossip's prayer,