Why turns the restless glance on every side

In grateful gloom, or melancholy pride?

Touched by quick SYMPATHY's mysterious spring
Thought's airy sprites in mazy circles wing,

On the fine nerves impress a trembling thrill,
And move obedient to the wakeful will,

Till memory's trains in swift succession rise,

And round RETIREMENT blend harmonic dyes.

Hence o'er the spot, where rest the storied dead, (1)*

Where virtue triumphed, or where valor bled;

Where classic ruins mid the wreck of time

In tranquil grandeur lift their heads sublime;
The lone enthusiast loves the lines to trace,
Which genius chiselled on the bust of grace,
To muse on elder lore, and studious thence

Light the pure thought, and nerve the manly sense.

Still, as wild AVON winds in silent pride,

His Shakespere's hautboy charms the listening tide;

* See notes at the end.

Still ARNO trembles with the minstrel's note,

And fancy's strains on tardy MINCIO float,

As when young MARO poured his matchless lay,
And sweetly carolled to the god of day.

Sweet, trembling ecstasies, which swiftly rise,

Melt the full soul, and press the rich surprise!

What kindling verse shall dare those charms express,
Now bathed in bliss, now steeped in tenderness,
When the rapt thought, by sacred fancy led,

Paints to the living, what embalms the dead.
When near the tomb, where ILION's victor lay,
The Granic hero paused to weep and pray, (2)

What time the pathos of the bard of fire

Flowed o'er his lips to calm his wakeful ire,

Ah! who shall sketch in colors bright, as life,

The moving agonies, the rapturous strife,

The frequent sighs, which heaved his breast, to raise

A friend to sooth him, and a bard to praise ?

Vain were the toil, the mystic spring of thought,

Like lightning, shivers, but can ne'er be caught.

Hence too, with majesty supremely rude Where nature frowns in deepest solitude,

The local genius, as unawed he braves

Impending cataracts, or giant caves,

Feels all his soul dilate with zeal sublime,

Its grandeur heightening with the kindred clime.

Nor less the scenes, where varied beauties shine,

To gentler feelings lend a charm divine;

Silence and gloom a holier peace inspire,

Free the prest heart, and cool the fierce desire ;
E'en sadness, pausing o'er her woes awhile,
Relents her brow, and wakes a transient smile.

Blest link of being, whence successive thought

Leaps into life, in social order wrought,

What subtle powers connect thy airy train,

Touch but the first, and myriads crowd the brain!

From thee SECLUSION gains her magic art,

To wake the mind, and elevate the heart,
From thee, gay fancy every image gleans,
Which breathes perfection o'er illusive scenes,
And, urged by thee, the forms of memory true
Thro CORNEAN portals pass in bright review. (3)

'Tis evening's watch, while silver twilight fails, Scarce winds the seabreeze round the flaccid sails; Athwart his eyes oblique the moonlight cast,

The jocund sailor climbs the giddy mast,

Charmed, while he seems in distant sounds to hear

Some ready welcome meet his listening ear.
Hushed be each voice, the bursting joke suspend,

Lo! on his soul the dreams of hope descend;

At home he sits, the dangerous voyage o'er,

Tells all his ills, and would the tale were more ;

B

Unbidden tears console for perils past,

And each new smile seems lovelier, than the last;
Round his rocked knee his sportive infants press,

Ask the fresh kiss, and steal the fond caress;
Joy follows joy, the welcome circles round,
The tale repeated, and the bumper crowned;
Love, fancy, hope, his glowing senses steep,

And waft his visions o'er the bounding deep.

Yet there are those, whose souls of heavier mould

No joys, like these, no chastened joys unfold;

For them in vain in sober landscape reign

The mouldered turret and the moonlight main ;

For them bright fiction never taught to glow

In fairy tales or legendary woe ;

For them no spirits walk the dusky cave,

No murmuring Naiads drink the lucid wave,

No fine enchantments, raised at WIELAND's call, (4)

Convene her shadowy train to fancy's hall;