Page:The Pleasures of Memory (Rogers).djvu/47

 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 virtues as it fell; And o'er the dripping moss, the fretted stone, In ear breath'd language not its own. Her charm around the enchantress threw, A charm that soothes the mind, and sweetens too!
 * But is Her magic only felt below?

Say, thro' what brighter realms she bids it flow, To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere, f She yields delight but faintly imag'd 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 smile divine, To distant worlds that undiscover'd shine; Full on her tablet flings its living rays, And all, combin'd, 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, releas'd 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;