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Whose dark eyes flashed thro' locks of blackest shade,
future years! Ah, then, what honest triumph flushed my breast; This truth once known—To bless is to be blest! We led the bending beggar on his way, (Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-grey) Soothed the keen pangs his aged spirit felt, And on his tale with mute attention dwelt. As in his scrip we dropt our little store, And sighed to think that little was no more, He breathed his prayer, “ Long may such goodness live!" 'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give. Angels, when Mercy's mandate winged their flight, Had stopt to dwell with pleasure on the sight.
But hark! thro' those old firs, with sullen swell,
On yon grey stone, that fronts the chancel-door,
Alas! unconscious of the kindred earth,
The glow-worm loves her emerald-light to shed,
Hush, ye fond flutterings, hush! while here alone
But when the sons of peace, of pleasure sleep,
Ethereal Power! who at the noon of night
Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise ! * Each stamps its image as the other flies. Each, as the various avenues of sense Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense, Brightens or fades; yet all, with magic art, Controul the latent fibres of the heart. As studious PROSPERO's mysterious spell Drew every subject-spirit to his cell ; Each, at thy call, advances or retires, As judgment dictates, or the scene inspires. Each thrills the seat of sense, 'that sacred source Whence the fine nerves direct their mazy course, And thro' the frame invisibly convey The subtle, quick vibrations as they play; Man's little universe at once o'ercast, At once illumined when the cloud is past.
Survey the globe, each ruder realm explore; From Reason's faintest ray to Newton soar. What different spheres to human bliss assigned ! What slow gradations in the scale of mind ! Yet mark in each these mystic wonders wrought; Oh mark the sleepless energies of thought!
* Namque illic posuit solium, et sua templa sacravit Mens animi: hanc circum coëunt, densoque feruntur Agmine notitiæ, simulacraque tenuia rerum.
The adventurous boy, that asks his little share, And hies from home with many a gossip's prayer, Turns on the neighbouring hill, once more to see The dear abode of peace and privacy; And as he turns, the thatch among the trees, The smoke's blue wreaths ascending with the breeze, The village-common spotted white with sheep, The church-yard yews round which his fathers sleep; All rouse Reflection's sadly-pleasing train, And oft he looks and weeps, and looks again.
So, when the mild Tupia dared explore
So Scotia's Queen, as slowly dawned the day,
Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire, As summer-clouds flash forth electric fire. And hence this spot gives back the joys of youth, Warm as the life, and with the mirror's truth. Hence home-felt pleasure prompts the Patriot's sigh; This makes him wish to live, and dare to die. For this young FOSCARI, whose hapless fate Venice should blush to hear the Muse relate,