Page:The Pleasures of Memory (Rogers).djvu/22

And all his soul best lov'd—such tears he shed,
While each soft scene of summer beauty fled:
Long o'er the wave a wistful look he cast,
Long watch'd the streaming signal from the mast;
Till twilight's dewy tints deceiv'd his eye,
And fairy forests fring'd the evening sky.
So Scotia's Queen, as slowly dawned the day, ^e
Rose on her couch, and gaz'd her soul away.
Her eyes had bless'd the beacon's glimmering height,
That faintly tipt the feathery surge with light;
But now the morn with orient hues portray'd
Each castled cliff and brown monastic shade;
All touch'd the talisman's resistless spring,
And lo, what busy tribes were instant on the wing!
Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire, ^f
As summer-clouds flash forth electric fire.
And hence this spot gives back the joys of youth,
Warm as the life, and with the mirror's truth.
Hence home-felt pleasure prompts the Patriot's sigh; ^g
This makes him wish to live, and dare to die.
For this young Foscari, whose hapless fate ^h
Venice should blush to hear the Muse relate,
While exile wore his blooming years away,
To sorrow's long soliloquies a prey,
When reason, justice, vainly urg'd his cause,
For this he rous'd her sanguinary laws;
Glad to return, tho' hope could grant no more,
And chains and torture hail'd him to the shore.
And hence the charm historic scenes impart:
Hence Tiber awes, and Avon melts the heart.
Aerial forms in Tempe's classic vale,
Glance thro' the gloom, and whisper in the gale;
In wild Vaucluse with love and Laura dwell,
And watch and weep in Eloisa's cell. ⁱ
'Twas ever thus. As now at Virgil's tomb, ^k
We bless the shade, and bid the verdure bloom: