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Far from the busy world she flies,
To taste that peace the world denies.
Entranced she sits; from youth to age,
Reviewing Life's eventful page;
And noting, ere they fade away,
The little lines of yesterday.

Florio had gain'd a rude and rocky seat, When lo, the Genius of this still retreat! Fair was her form-but who can hope to trace The pensive softness of her angel-face? Can Virgil's verse, can Raphael's touch, impart Those finer features of the feeling heart, Those tend'rer tints that shun the careless eye, And in the world's contagious climate die?

She left the cave, nor mark'd the stranger there; Her pastoral beauty, and her artless air Had breathed a soft enchantment o'er his soul! In every nerve he felt her blest control! What pure and white-wing'd agents of the sky, Who rule the springs of sacred sympathy, Inform congenial spirits when they meet? Sweet is their office, as their natures sweet!

Florio, with fearful joy, pursued the maid, Till through a vista's moonlight-chequer'd shade, Where the bat circled, and the rooks reposed, (Their wars suspended, and their councils closed) An antique mansion burst in awful state, A rich vine clustering round the Gothic gate. Nor paused he there. The master of the scene Saw his light step imprint the dewy green; And, slow advancing, hail'd him as his guest, Won by the honest warmth his looks express'd. He wore the rustic manners of a 'Squire; Age had not quench'd one spark of manly fire; But giant Gout had bound him in her chain, And his heart panted for the chase in vain.

Yet here Remembrance, sweetly-soothing Power! Wing'd with delight Confinement's lingering hour. The fox's brush still emulous to wear, He scour'd the county in his elbow-chair; And, with view-halloo, roused the dreaming hound, That rung, by starts, his deep-toned music round.

Long by the paddock's humble pale confined, His aged hunters coursed the viewless wind: And each, with glowing energy portray'd, The far-famed triumphs of the field display'd; Usurp'd the canvas of the crowded hall, And chased a line of heroes from the wall. There slept the horn each jocund echo knew, And many a smile and many a story drew! High o'er the hearth his forest-trophies hung, And their fantastic branches wildly flung. How would he dwell on the vast antlers there! These dash'd the wave, those fann'd the mountain-air. All, as they frown'd, unwritten records bore Of gallant feats and festivals of yore.

But why the tale prolong?-His only child,
His darling Julia on the stranger smil'd.
Her little arts a fretful sire to please,
Her gentle gaiety, and native ease

Had won his soul; and rapturous Fancy shed
Her golden lights, and tints of rosy red.
But ah! few days had pass'd, ere the bright vision fled!
When evening tinged the lake's ethereal blue,
And her deep shades irregularly threw;

Their shifting sail dropt gently from the cove,
Down by St. Herbert's consecrated grove; (29)
Whence erst the chanted hymn, the taper'd rite
Amused the fisher's solitary night:
And still the mitred window, richly wreathed,
A sacred calm through the brown foliage breathed.
The wild deer, starting through the silent glade
With fearful gaze their various course survey'd.
High hung in air the hoary goat reclined,
His streaming beard the sport of every wind;
And, while the coot her jet-wing loved to lave,
Rock'd on the bosom of the sleepless wave;
The eagle rush'd from Skiddaw's purple crest,
A cloud still brooding o'er her giant-nest.

And now the moon had dimm'd with dewy ray The few fine flushes of departing day. O'er the wide water's deep serene she hung, And her broad lights on every mountain flung; When lo! a sudden blast the vessel blew, (30) And to the surge consign'd the little crew. All, all escaped-but ere the lover bore His faint and faded Julia to the shore, Her sense had fled!-Exhausted by the storm, A fatal trance hung o'er her pallid form; Her closing eye a trembling lustre fired; "Twas life's last spark-it flutter'd and expired!

The father strew'd his white hairs in the wind, Call'd on his child-nor linger'd long behind: And Florio lived to see the willow wave, With many an evening-whisper, o'er their grave. Yes, Florio lived-and, still of each possess'd, The father cherish'd, and the maid caress'd!

For ever would the fond enthusiast rove,
With Julia's spirit, through the shadowy grove;
Gaze with delight on every scene she plann'd,
Kiss every flow'ret planted by her hand.
Ah! still he traced her steps along the glade,
When hazy hues and glimmering lights betray'd
Half-viewless forms; still listen'd as the breeze
Heaved its deep sobs among the aged trees;
And at each pause her melting accents caught,
In sweet delirium of romantic thought!

Dear was the grot that shunn'd the blaze of day;
She
gave its spars to shoot a trembling ray.
The spring, that bubbled from its inmost cell,
Murmur'd of Julia's virtues as it fell;
And o'er the dripping moss, the fretted stone,
In Florio's ear breathed language not its own,
Her charm around the enchantress MEMORY threw
A charm that soothes the mind, and sweetens too!
But is Her magic only felt below?

Say, through what brighter realms she bids it flow.
To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere, (31)
She yields delight but faintly imaged here:
All that till now their rapt researches knew;
Not call'd in slow succession to review,
But, as a landscape meets the eye of day,
At once presented to their glad survey!

Each scene of bliss reveal'd, since chaos fled,
And dawning light its dazzling glories spread;
Each chain of wonders that sublimely glow'd,
Since first Creation's choral anthem flow'd;
Each ready flight, at Mercy's call divine,
To distant worlds that undiscover'd shine;
Full on her tablet flings its living rays,

And all, combined, with blest effulgence blaze.

There thy bright train, immortal Friendship, soar; No more to part, to mingle tears no more! And, as the softening hand of Time endears The joys and sorrows of our infant-years, So there the soul, released from human strife, Smiles at the little cares and ills of life; Its lights and shades, its sunshine and its showers; As at a dream that charm'd her vacant hours!

Oft may the spirits of the dead descend
To watch the silent slumbers of a friend;
To hover round his evening-walk unseen,
And hold sweet converse on the dusky green;
To hail the spot where first their friendship grew,
And heaven and nature open'd to their view!
Oft, when he trims his cheerful hearth, and sees
A smiling circle emulous to please;
There may these gentle guests delight to dwell,
And bless the scene they loved in life so well!

Oh thou! with whom my heart was wont to share
From Reason's dawn each pleasure and each care;
With whom, alas! I fondly hoped to know
The humble walks of happiness below;
If thy blest nature now unites above
An angel's pity with a brother's love,
Still o'er my life preserve thy mild control,
Correct my views, and elevate my soul;
Grant me thy peace and purity of mind,
Devout yet cheerful, active yet resign'd;
Grant me, like thee, whose heart knew no disguise,
Whose blameless wishes never aim'd to rise,
To meet the changes Time and Chance present,
With modest dignity and calm content.
When thy last breath, ere Nature sunk to rest,
Thy meek submission to thy God express'd;
When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fled,
A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed;
What to thy soul its glad assurance gave,
Its hope in death, its triumph o'er the grave?
The sweet Remembrance of unblemish'd youth,
The still inspiring voice of Innocence and Truth!

Hail, MEMORY, hail! in thy exhaustless mine
From age to age unnumber'd treasures shine!
Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey,
And Place and Time are subject to thy sway!
Thy pleasures most we feel when most alone;
The only pleasures we can call our own.
Lighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die,
If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky;
If but a beam of sober Reason play,
Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away!
But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power,
Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour?
These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight,
Pour round her path a stream of living light;
And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest,
Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest!

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Note 5, page 3, col. 2.

So Scotia's Queen, etc. "

Elle se leve sur son lit, et se met à contempler la France encore, et tant qu'elle peut-BRANTÔME. Note 6, page 3, col. 2.

Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire.

To an accidental association may be ascribed some of the noblest efforts of human genius. The Historian of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire first conceived his design among the ruins of the Capitol; and to the tones of a Welsh harp are we indebted for the Bard of Gray.

Note 7, page 3, col. 2. Hence home-felt pleasure, etc

Who can sufficiently admire the affectionate attachment of Plutarch, who thus concludes his enumeration of the advantages of a great city to men of letters? "As to myself, I live in a little town; and I choose to live there, lest it should become still less." Vit. Dem.

Note 8, page 3, col. 2.
For this young Foscari, etc.

He was suspected of murder, and at Venice suspicion is good evidence. Neither the interest of the Doge, his father, nor the intrepidity of conscious innocence, which he exhibited in the dungeon and on the rack, could procure his acquittal. He was banished to the island of Candia for life.

But here his resolution failed him. At such a distance from home he could not live; and, as it was a criminal offence to solicit the intercession of a foreign prince, in a fit of despair he addressed a letter to the Duke of Milan, and intrusted it to a wretch whose perfidy, he knew, would occasion his being remanded a prisoner to Venice.

Note 9, page 3, col. 2.

chateau at Richelieu, he sacrificed its symmetry to preserve the room in which he was born-Mém. de Mlle de Montpensier, i, 27.

And hence the charm historic scenes impart: Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future, predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me and far from my friends be such frigid philosophy as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which "I will expose my weakness: I am oftener missing has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. a pretty gallery in the old house I pulled down, than That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism pleased with a saloon which I built in its stead, though a thousand times better in all respects."-See would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins his Letter to the D. of Sh.

An attachment of this nature is generally the characteristic of a benevolent mind; and a long acquaintance with the world cannot always extinguish it. "To a friend," says John, Duke of Buckingham

of long-JOHNSON.

Note 10, page 3, col. 2.

And watch and weep in Eloisa's cell.

The Paraclete, founded by Abelard, in Champagne.

Note 11, page 3, col. 2.

Nor did the Poet feel the charm more forcibly than his Editor. See HURD'S Life of Warburton, 51, 99. The Author of Telemachus has illustrated this

"T was ever thus. As now at Virgil's tomb.

Vows and pilgrimages are not peculiar to the re-subject, with equal fancy and feeling, in the story of ligious enthusiast. Silius Italicus performed annual Alibée, Persan. ceremonies on the mountain of Posilipo; and it was there that Boccaccio, quasi da un divino estro inspirato, resolved to dedicate his life to the Muses.

Note 12, page 3, col. 2.

So Tully paused amid the wrecks of Time. When Cicero was quæstor in Sicily, he discovered the tomb of Archimedes by its mathematical inscription-Tusc. Quæst. v. 3.

Note 13, page 3, col. 2.

Say why the pensive widow loves to weep.

The influence of the associating principle is finely exemplified in the faithful Penelope, when she sheds tears over the bow of Ulysses.-Od. xxi, 55.

Note 14, page 3, col. 2.

If chance he hears the song so sweetly wild. The celebrated Ranz des Vaches; "cet air si chéri des Suisses qu'il fut défendu sous peine de mort de le jouer dans leurs troupes, parce qu'il faisoit fondre en larmes, déserter ou mourir ceux qui l'entendoient, tant il excitoit en cux l'ardent désir de revoir leur patrie."-ROUSSEAU.

This is the language of the heart; and will remind the reader of that good-humored remark in one of Pope's letters - "I should hardly care to have an old post pulled up, that I remembered ever since I was a child."

44

And it is said of Cardinal Richelieu, that, when he built his magnificent palace on the site of the old family

Note 16, page 4, col. 1.
Why great Navarre, etc.

That amiable and accomplished monarch, Henry the Fourth of France, made an excursion from his camp, during the long siege of Laon, to dine at a house in the forest of Folambray; where he had often been regaled, when a boy, with fruit, milk, and new cheese; and in revisiting which he promised himself great pleasure.-Mém. de Sully.

Note 17, page 4, col. 1.

When Diocletian's self-corrected mind.

there amused himself with building, planting, and
Diocletian retired into his native province, and
gardening. His answer to Maximian is deservedly
celebrated. He was solicited by that restless old man
to reassume the reins of government, and the Impe-
rial purple. He rejected the temptation with a smile
"that if he could show
of pity, calmly observing,
Maximian the cabbages which he had planted with
his own hands at Salona, he should no longer be
urged to relinquish the enjoyment of happiness for
the pursuit of power."-GIBBON.

Note 18, page 4, col. 1.

Say, when contentious Charles renounced a throne. When the emperor Charles V. had executed his memorable resolution, and had set out for the monastery of St. Justus, he stopped a few days at Ghent. says his historian, to indulge that tender and pleas ant melancholy, which arises in the mind of every man in the decline of life, on visiting the place of his nativity, and viewing the scenes and objects fa miliar to him in his early youth.-ROBERTSON.

The maladie de pays is as old as the human heart. JUVENAL'S little cup-bearer

Suspirat longo non visam tempore matrem,
Et casulam, et notos tristis desiderat hædos.
And the Argive, in the heat of battle,

Dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos.
Note 15, page 4, col. 2.

Note 19, page 4, col. 1.

Say why Vespasian loved his Sabine farm. This emperor, according to Suetonius, constantly passed the summer in a small villa near Reate, where he was born, and to which he would never add any embellishment, ne quid scilicet oculorum consuetudini deperiret. SUET. in Vit. Vesp. cap. ii.

Then did his horse the homeward track descry. The memory of the horse forms the groundwork of a pleasing little romance of the twelfth century entitled, Lai du Palefroy vair."-See Fabliaux du XII. siècle. Ariosto likewise introduces it in a passage full of

46

A similar instance occurs in the life of the venerable Pertinax, as related by J. Capitolinus. Posteaquam in Liguriam venit, multis agris coemptis, tabernam truth and nature. When Bayardo meets Angelica in paternam, manente forma priore, infinitis ædificiis cir- the forest, cumdedit. Hist. August. 54.

Va mansueto alla Donzella,

*

Che in Albracca il servia già di sua mano.
Orlando Furioso, canto i. 75

Note 20, page 4, col. 1.

Sweet bird! thy truth shall Haarlem's walls attest.

During the siege of Haarlem, when that city was reduced to the last extremity, and on the point of opening its gates to a base and barbarous enemy, a design was formed to relieve it; and the intelligence was conveyed to the citizens by a letter which was tied under the wing of a pigeon.-THUANUS, lib. lv. c. 5.

The same messenger was employed at the siege of Mutina, as we are informed by the elder Pliny

Hist. Nat. x. 37

Hast thou through Eden's wild-wood vales pursued. there stands a small pillar with this inscription: On the road-side, between Penrith and Appleby,

Note 21, page 4, col. 2.

This pillar was erected in the year 1656, by Ann Countess-Dowager of Pembroke, etc. for a memorial of her last parting, in this place, with her good and

Hark! the bee, etc.

This little animal, from the extreme convexity of pious mother, Margaret, Countess-Dowager of Cumher eye, cannot see many inches before her.

berland, on the 2d of April, 1616; in memory whereof she hath left an annuity of 41. to be distributed to the poor of the parish of Brougham, every 2d day of April for ever, upon the stone-table placed hard by. Laus Deo!"

Note 22, page 5, col. 1.

These still exist, etc.

There is a future Existence even in this world, an Existence in the hearts and minds of those who shall live after us. It is in reserve for every man, however obscure; and his portion, if he be diligent, must be equal to his desires For in whose remembrance can we wish to hold a place, but such as know, and are known by us? These are within the sphere of our influence, and among these and their descendants we may live evermore.

esteem of wise and good men; and both lead to the same end; for, in framing our conceptions of the Deity, we only ascribe to Him exalted degrees of Wisdom and Goodness.

Note 23, page 5, col. 2.

Yet still how sweet the soothings of his art!

The astronomer chalking his figures on the wall, in Hogarth's view of Bedlam, is an admirable exemplification of this idea.-See the Rake's Progress, plate 8.

66

It is a state of rewards and punishments; and, like that revealed to us in the Gospel, has the happiest influence on our lives. The latter excites us to gain the favor of GOD, the former to gain the love and reliquis versari, quam tui meminisse !”

Note 24, page 6, col. 1.

Turns but to start, and gazes but to sigh!

The following stanzas are said to have been written on a blank leaf of this Poem. They present so affecting a reverse of the picture, that I cannot resist the opportunity of introducing them here.

She tells of time misspent, of comfort lost,
Of fair occasions gone for ever by ;

Of hopes too fondly nursed, too rudely cross'd,
Of many a cause to wish, yet fear to die;
For what, except th' instinctive fear
Lest she survive, detains me here,
When "all the life of life" is fled ?-
What, but the deep inherent dread,
Lest she beyond the grave resume her reign,
And realize the hell that priests and beldams feign?
Note 25, page 6, col. 1.

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Pleasures of Memory!-oh! supremely blest,
And justly proud beyond a Poet's praise:
If the pure confines of thy tranquil breast
Contain, indeed, the subject of thy lays!
By me how envied-for to me,
The herald still of misery,
Memory makes her influence known
By sighs, and tears, and grief alone.

I greet her as the fiend, to whom belong

The vulture's ravening beak, the raven's funeral song.

The Eden is the principal river of Cumberland, and rises in the wildest part of Westmoreland.

Note 26, page 6, col. 1.

O'er his dead son the gallant Ormond sigh'd.

Ormond bore the loss with patience and dignity: though he ever retained a pleasing, however melancholy, sense of the signal merit of Ossory. "I would not exchange my dead son," said he, "for any living son in Christendom."-HUME.

The same sentiment is inscribed on Miss Dolman's urn at the Leasowes. Heu, quanto minus est cum

Note 27, page 6, col. 2.

High on exulting wing the heath-cock rose. This bird is remarkable for his exultation during the spring.

Note 28, page 6, col. 2.

Derwent's clear mirror.
Keswick-Lake in Cumberland.

Note 29, page 7, col. 2.

Down by St. Herbert's consecrated grove.

A small island covered with trees, among which were formerly the ruins of a religious house.

Note 30, page 7, col. 2.

When lo a sudden blast the vessel blew.

In a lake surrounded with mountains, the agitations are often violent and momentary. The winds blow in gusts and eddies; and the water no sooner swells, than it subsides.-See BOURN's Hist. of Westmoreland.

Note 31, page 7, col. 2.

To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere.

The several degrees of angels may probably have larger views, and some of them be endowed with capacities able to retain together, and constantly set before them, as in one picture, all their past knowledge at once.-LOCKE.

Human Life.

ARGUMENT.

Yet, all forgot, how oft the eye-lids close, Introduction-Ringing of bells in a neighboring Vil- How oft, as dead, on the warm turf we lie, And from the slack hand drops the gather'd rose! lage on the birth of an heir-General Reflections While many an emmet comes with curious eye; on Human Life-The Subject proposed-Child- And on her nest the watchful wren sits by! hood-Youth-Manhood-Love-Marriage-Do- Nor do we speak or move, or hear or see; mestic Happiness and Affliction-War-Peace-So like what once we were, and once again shall be' Civil Dissension-Retirement from active Life— Old Age and its Enjoyments-Conclusion.

And say, how soon, where, blithe as innocent,
The boy at sun-rise whistled as he went,
An aged pilgrim on his staff shall lean,
Tracing in vain the footsteps o'er the green;
The man himself how alter'd, not the scene!
Now journeying home with nothing but the nam
Wayworn and spent, another and the same!

THE lark has sung his carol in the sky: The bees have humm'd their noon-tide lullaby. Still in the vale the village-bells ring round, Still in Llewellyn-hall the jests resound: For now the caudle-cup is circling there, Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their prayer, To-day we look as we did yesterday; And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire And we shall look to-morrow as to-day: The babe, the sleeping image of his sire. Yet while the loveliest smiles, her locks grow grey!

No eye observes the growth or the decay:

A few short years-and then these sounds shall hail And in her glass could she but see the face
The day again, and gladness fill the vale;
So soon the child a youth, the youth a man,
Eager to run the race his fathers ran.
Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sirloin;
The ale, now brew'd, in floods of amber shine:
And, basking in the chimney's ample blaze,
'Mid many a tale told of his boyish days,
The nurse shall cry, of all her ills beguiled,

She'll see so soon amidst another race,
How would she shrink!-Returning from afar.
After some years of travel, some of war,
Within his gate Ulysses stood unknown
Before a wife, a father, and a son!

16

T was on these knees he sate so oft and smiled."
And soon again shall music swell the breeze;
Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees
Vestures of nuptial white; and hymns be sung,
And violets scatter'd round; and old and young,
In every cottage-porch with garlands green,
Stand still to gaze, and, gazing, bless the scene;
While, her dark eyes declining, by his side
Moves in her virgin-veil the gentle bride.
And once, alas, nor in a distant hour,
Another voice shall come from yonder tower;
When in dim chambers long black weeds are
And weepings heard where only joy has been ;
When by his children borne, and from his door
Slowly departing to return no more,

seen,

He rests in holy earth with them that went before.
And such is Human Life; so gliding on,
It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone!
Yet is the tale, brief though it be, as strange,
As full, methinks, of wild and wondrous change,
As any that the wandering tribes require,
Stretch'd in the desert round their evening-fire;
As any sung of old in hall or bower
To minstrel-harps at midnight's witching hour!
Born in a trance, we wake, observe, inquire;
And the green earth, the azure sky admire.
Of Elfin-size-for ever as we run,
We cast a longer shadow in the sun!
And now a charm, and now a grace is won!
We grow in wisdom, and stature too!
And, as new scenes, new objects rise to view,
Think nothing done while aught remains to do.

And such is Human Life, the general theme.
Ah, what at best, what but a longer dream?
Though with such wild romantic wanderings fraught
Such forms in Fancy's richest coloring wrought,
That, like the visions of a love-sick brain,
Who would not sleep and dream them o'er again?
Our pathway leads but to a precipice; (1)
And all must follow, fearful as it is!
From the first step 't is known; but-No delay!
On, 'tis decreed. We tremble and obey.
A thousand ills beset us as we go.

________44 Still, could I shun the fatal gulf”—Ah, no,
"Tis all in vain-the inexorable law!

Nearer and nearer to the brink we draw.
Verdure springs up; and fruits and flowers invite,
And groves and fountains-all things that delight
"Oh I would stop, and linger if I might!"-
We fly; no resting for the foot we find ; (2)
And dark before, all desolate behind!

At length the brink appears-but one step more!
We faint-On, on!-we falter and 'tis o'er!

Yet here high passions, high desires unfold,
Prompting to noblest deeds; here links of gold
Bind soul to soul; and thoughts divine inspire
A thirst unquenchable, a holy fire
That will not, cannot but with life expire!

Now, seraph-wing'd, among the stars we soar;
Now distant ages, like a day, explore,
And judge the act, the actor now no more;
Or, in a thankless hour condemn'd to live,
From others claim what these refuse to give,
And dart, like Milton, an unerring eye
Through the dim curtains of Futurity. (3)

Wealth, Pleasure, Ease, all thought of self resign'd,
What will not Man encounter for Mankind?

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