Whether I trace the tranquil moments o'er
When I have seen thee cull the fruits of lore,
With him, the polished warrior, by thy side,
A sister's idol and a nation's pride!
When thou hast read of heroes, trophied high
In ancient fame, and I have seen thine eye
Turn to the living hero, while it read,
For pure and brightening comments on the dead;--
Or whether memory to my mind recalls
The festal grandeur of those lordly halls,
When guests have met around the sparkling board,
And welcome warmed the cup that luxury poured;
When the bright future Star of England's throne,
With magic smile, hath o'er the banquet shone,
Winning respect, nor claiming what he won,
But tempering greatness, like an evening sun
Whose light the eye can tranquilly admire,
Radiant, but mild, all softness, yet all fire;--
Whatever hue my recollections take,
Even the regret, the very pain they wake
Is mixt with happiness;--but, ah! no more--
Lady! adieu--my heart has lingered o'er
Those vanished times, till all that round me lies,
Stream, banks, and bowers have faded on my eyes!
[1] Anburey, in his Travels, has noticed this shooting illumination which
porpoises diffuse at night through the river St. Lawrence,--Vol. i. p. 29.
[2] The glass-snake is brittle and transparent.
[3] "The departed spirit goes into the Country of Souls, where, according
to some, it is transformed into a dove.
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