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 Julia's virtues as it fell;
And o'er the dripping moss, the fretted stone,
In Florio's ear breath'd 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, 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;