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Around her, fanning light her streamers gay; My boast is not that I deduce my birth So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached the From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth; shore,
But higher far my proud pretensions rise“ Where tempests never beat nor billows roar;" The son of parents passed into the skies. And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide And now, farewell-time unrevoked has run Of life, long since, has anchored at thy side. His wonted course, yet what I wished is done. But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest,
By contemplation's help, not sought in vain, Always from port withheld, always distressed- I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again; Me howling winds drive devious, tempest-tossed, To have renewed the joys that once were mine, Sails ript, seams opening wide, and compass lost; Without the sin of violating thine; And day by day some current's thwarting force And, while the wings of fancy still are free, Sets me more distant from a prosperous course. And I can view this mimic show of thee, But oh the thought, that thou art safe, and he ! Time bas but half succeeded in his theftThat thought is joy, arrive what may to me. Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.
PLEASURES OF MEMORY. Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village green, With magic tints to harmonize the scene. Still'd is the hum that thro' the bamlet broke, When round the ruins of their ancient oak The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play, And games and carols clos'd the busy day. Her wheel at rest, the matron thrills no more With treasur'd tales, and legendary lore. All, all are tied; nor mirth nor music flows To chase the dreams of innocent repose. All, all are fled; yet still I linger here! What secret charms this silent spot endear?
Mark yon old mansion frowning thro' the trees,
See, thro' the fractur’d pediment reveal'd,
As jars the hinge, what sullen echoes call!
Now stain’d with dews, with cobwebs darkly
Ye Household Deities! whose guardian eye Mark'd each pure thought, ere register'd on high ; Still, still ye walk the consecrated ground, And breathe the soul of Inspiration round.
As o'er the dusky furniture I bend, Each chair awakes the feelings of a friend. The storied arras, source of fond delight,
With old achievement charms the wilder'd sight;
As thro' the garden's desert paths I rove,
Childhood's lov'd group revisits every scene; The tangled wood-walk, and the tufted green! Indulgent Memory wakes, and lo, they live! Cloth'd with far softer hues than light can give. Thou first, best friend that heav'n assigns below, To soothe and sweeten all the cares we know; Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm, When nature fades, and life forgets to charm; Thee would the Muse invoke!-to thee belong The sage's precept, and the poet's song. What soften'd views thy magic glass reveals, When o'er the landscape Time's meek twilight As when in ocean sinks the orb of day, (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.
The school's lone porch, with reverend mosses Just tells the pensive pilgrim where it lay. [gray, Mute is the bell that rung at peep of dawn, Quickening my truant-feet across the lawn: Unheard the shout that rent the noontide air, When the slow dial gave a pause to care. 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 With golden visions, and romantic dreams! Down by yon hazel copse, at evening, blaz'd