Thee, in whose hand the keys of Science dwell, The pensive portress of her holy cell; Whose constant vigils chase the chilling damp The friends of Reason, and the guides of Youth, Still speak and act, the models of mankind. From Thee sweet Hope her airy colouring draws; And Fancy's flights are subject to thy laws. From Thee that bosom-spring of rapture flows, Which only Virtue, tranquil Virtue, knows. When Joy's bright sun has shed his evening-ray, And Hope's delusive meteors cease to play; When clouds on clouds the smiling prospect close, Still thro' the gloom thy star serenely glows: Like yon fair orb, she gilds the brow of night The beauteous maid, that bids the world adieu, Oft of that world will snatch a fond review; Some social scene, some dear, familiar face, To love and joy still tremblingly alive; The whisper'd vow, the chaste caress prolong, Weave the light dance, and swell the choral song; THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. PART II. · Degli anni e de l'obblio nemica, Delle cose custode, e dispensiera. TASSO. D |