Again I revisit the hills where we sported, [fought; The streams where we swam, and the fields where we The school where, loud warned by the bell, we resorted, To pore o'er the precepts by pedagogues taught. Again 1 behold where for hours I have pondered, As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone I lay; Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wandered, To catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray. I once more view the room with spectators surrounded, Where, as Zanga, I trod on Alonzo o'erthrown; While to swell my young pride such applauses resounded, I fancied that Mossop himself was outshone: Or, as Lear, I poured forth the deep imprecation, Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I regret you! Unfaded your memory dwells in my breast; Though sad and deserted, I ne'er can forget you; Your pleasures may still be in fancy possest. To Ida full oft may remembrance restore me, While fate shall the shades of the future unroll! Since darkness o'ershadows the prospect before me, More dear is the beam of the past to my soul. But if, through the course of the years which await me, Some new scene of pleasure should open to view, I will say, while with rapture the thought shall elate me, "Oh! such were the days which my infancy knew." THE TEAR. WHEN Friendship or Love When Truth in a glance should appear, The lips may beguile With a dimple or smile, But the test of affection's a Tear. Too oft is a smile But the hypocrite's wile, To mask detestation or fear; Give me the soft sigh, While the soul-telling eye Is dimmed for a time with a Tear. Mild Charity's glow To us mortals below, Compassion will melt Where this virtue is felt, And its dew is diffused in a Tear. The man doomed to sail With the blast of the gale, Through billows Atlantic to steer, As he bends o'er the wave Which may soon be his grave, The green sparkles bright with a Tear. The soldier braves death For a fanciful wreath, In Glory's romantic career; But he raises the foe When in battle laid low, And bathes every wound with a Tear If with high-bounding pride When, embracing the maid, Sweet scene of my youth! For a last look I turned, But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear. Though my vows I can pour To my Mary no more, My Mary to Love once so dear, In the shade of her bower I remember the hour She rewarded those vows with a Tear. By another possest, May she live ever blest! Her name still my heart must revere: What I once thought was mine, And forgive her deceit with a Tear. Ye friends of my heart, This hope to my breast is most near; In this rural retreat, May we meet, as we part, with a Tear. When my soul wings her flight Where my ashes consume, Oh! moisten their dust with a Tear. May no marble bestow The splendor of woe Which the children of vanity rear. No fiction of fame Shall blazon my name; All I ask - all I wish-is a Tear. TO D In thee I fondly hoped to clasp A friend, whom death alone could sever; Till envy, with malignant grasp, Detached thee from my breast for ever. True, she has forced thee from my breast, And, when the grave restores her dead, On thy dear breast I'll lay my head Without thee, where would be my heaven? EPITAPH ON A FRIEND. Он, Friend! for ever loved, for ever dear, What fruitless tears have bathed thy honored bier! While thou wast struggling in the pangs of death! The spot where now thy mouldering ashes lie, |