Tell, that while Love's spontaneous smile endears

The days of peace, the sabbath of his years,
Health shall prolong to many a festive hour

The social pleasures of his humble bower.

Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps,

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Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;

She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies,
Smiles on her slumb'ring child with pensive eyes,
And weaves a song of melancholy joy-

225

"Sleep, image of thy father, sleep, my boy:

230

No ling'ring hour of sorrow shall be thine;

No sigh that rends thy father's heart and mine,
Bright as his manly sire, the son shall be

In form and soul; but, ah! more blest than he!

Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at last,

Shall soothe this aching heart for all the past

With many a smile my solitude repay,

And chace the world's ungenerous scorn away.

235

"And say, when summon'd from the world and thee,

I lay my head beneath the willow tree,

240

Wilt thou, sweet mourner! at my stone appear,

And soothe my parted spirit ling'ring near?

Oh, wilt thou come, at ev'ning hour, to shed
The tears of Memory o'er my narrow bed;
With aching temples on thy hand reclin❜d,

Muse on the last farewel I leave behind,

Breathe a deep sigh to winds that murmur low,

And think on all my love, and all my woe ?"

245

How fondly looks admiring Hope the while,

At every artless tear, and every smile!
How glows the joyous parent to descry
A guileless bosom, true to sympathy!

260

Where is the troubled heart, consigned to share

Tumultuous toils, or solitary care,

Unblest by visionary thoughts that stray

To count the joys of Fortune's better day!
Lo, nature, life, and liberty relume

265

The dim-ey'd tenant of the dungeon gloom,
A long lost friend, or hapless child restor❜d,
Smiles at his blazing hearth and social board;
Warm from his heart the tears of rapture flow,

270

And virtue triumphs o'er remember'd woe.

Chide not his peace, proud Reason! nor destroy

The shadowy forms of uncreated joy,

That urge the lingering tide of life, and pour

275

Spontaneous slumber on his midnight hour.

Hark! the wild maniac sings, to chide the gale

That wafts so slow her lover's distant sail;

She, sad spectatress, on the wintry shore

Watch'd the rude surge his shroudless corse that bore,

Knew the pale form, and, shrieking in amaze,

Clasp'd her cold hands, and fix'd her maddening gaze:

Poor widow'd wretch! 'twas there she wept in vain,

281

Till memory fled her agonizing brain :

But Mercy gave, to charm the sense of woe,

285

Ideal peace, that Truth could ne'er bestow;
Warm on her heart the joys of Fancy beam,

And aimless Hope delights her darkest dream.

Oft when yon moon has climb'd the midnight sky,

And the lone sea-bird wakes its wildest cry,

290 **