University of Virginia Library

Tossed from the nursery on a frowning world,
By wailing gales o'er boiling surges hurled,
Lured by the beacon's tantalizing glow,
That fitful gleams o'er scenes of bitter wo,
Condemned to drag the manacles of wrath
Along our course, and track our reeking path,
Sweet mem'ry, being's sheen and brilliant star,
When hushed is terror, and the din of war,
Illumes the dome of mind, the lone heart's cell,
And, as the streams of curling amber well
From the translucent fountain in the grove,
Gilds with celestial rays the forms we love.
But, as the ivy, while it clasps the tree,
And throws its tendrils bright with many a dye,
Infuses poison with its firm embrace,
And blasts the verdure, while it adds a grace,
The gilded visions of saturnian hours,
When beauty's fingers culled the roseate flowers,
And wove a garland for the infantine brow,
And waved the agnus castus' pensile bough,
Rush on the mind with mingled joy and pain,
As rose and hawthorn join to decorate the plain.
Yet the high mount, that rears its snowy head
Majestic o'er the stream's pellucid bed,
Whose azure waves, that rippled in their flow,
Oft bore the youth in wild meanders slow,
And every dell, and bowering grotto dun,
With golden harvests, bronzed in summer's sun,
And laughing meads, where sportive zephyrs play,
And o'er the green-bosomed lawn attune the lay
Of blithesome pleasure, and celestial love,
Where the fond eye gazed on the perfumed grove
Borne on the wings of flashing fancy, rise
In renovate and bright transparencies.

With thee, dear L******, in the days of youth,
Ere love had fled, and died the charms of truth,
Oft have I roved along the sunny mead,
And tuned to jollity the rural reed,
When nature, smiling, round the grazing flocks
Waved her bright wand; and shook ambrosial locks,
When fawns in gambols trod the flowery plain,
And bending spirits, at the ringdove's strain,
Struck their thrilled wires unto the songs of heaven,
And sung the glories unto mortals given;
And, when the carols of the soaring lark
Floated in air, ere sunbeams did embark
Hyperion's cohort through the pale-blue skies,
And gild the welkin with irradiate dies,
Nature unfurled her gemmed robe around,
And bloomed in living splendour at the sound
The linnet's melody in aspen grove,
That fluctuates when the light-wing'd zephyrs move,
The cooing turtle's song in vigil hour,
The minstrel's songstress in her darkling bower,
The swallow, twittering on her plumed wing,
The jovial mock-bird of the roseate spring,
The crested cuckoo in the forest's gloom,
And all the lyrists that flit round the bloom,
Regale the bard of solitary mood,
And, with their thousand choirs, make vocal every wood.
Such were the pleasures of our orient years,
That rolling time to distant vision bears;
Distance to fancy lends delightful hues,
And gilds the eye in retrospective views;
In youth each fountain is a nectared ewer,
And every scene extatic, bright, and pure.
The clustering vine that fragrant incense yields,
The golden pomp, and “garniture of fields,”
The sheeny cascade, silvered by the rays
Of solar brilliance, and meridian blaze,
Deck radiant nature,—throw a winning charm
Around the heart with vestal virtue warm;
And, when in fury foaming torrents dash,
And fires of wrath around the victim flash,
And peals of thunder rend the shuddering frame
Recoiling from the forked, death-clad flame,
We fondly gaze, through time's dark vista, o'er
The scenes of beauty on a blooming shore,
Drop the sad tear—and chase our fickle fate,
Shrouded in vestures black, and desolate.