Till o'er the mead a cool sequester'd grot
From its rich roof a sparry lustre shot.
A chrystal water cross'd the pebbled floor,
And on the front these simple lines it bore:

Hence

away, nor dare intrude

In this secret shodowy cell

Musing Memory loves to dwell,

With her sister Solitude.

Far from the busy world she flies,

To taste that peace the world denies.
she

Intranc'd

sits from youth to age,

Reviewing Life's eventful page;

And noting, ere they fade away,

The little lines of yesterday.

Florio had gain'd a rude and rocky seat,
When lo, the Genius of this still retreat!
Fair was her form....but who can hope to trace
The pensive softness of her angel face?

Can Virgil's verse, can Raphael's touch impart
Those finer features of the feeling heart,
Those tenderer tints that shun the careless eye,
And in the world's contagious circle die?

She left the cave, nor mark'd the stranger there;

Her pastoral beauty, and her artless air,

Had breath'd a soft enchantment o'er his soul !
In every nerve he felt her blest control!

What pure and white wing'd agents of the sky,
Who rules the springs of sacred Sympathy,
Inform congenial spirits when they meet?

Sweet is their office, as their nature sweet!

Florio with fearful joy pursued the maid, Till through a vista's moonlight chequer❜d shade, Where the bat circled, and the rook repos'd, (Their wars suspended, and their counsels clos'd) An antique mansion burst in awful state, A rich vine clustering round its Gothic gate. Nor paus'd he here. The master of the scene Mark'd his light step imprint the dewy green; And, slow advancing, hail'd him as his guest, Won by the honest warmth his looks express'd. He wore the rustic manners of a 'Squire : Age had not quench'd one spark of manly fire; But giant Gout had bound him in her chain, And his heart panted for the chase in vain.

And now the moon had dimm'd, with dewy ray, The few fine flushes of departing day;

O'er the wide water's deep serene she hung,
And her broad lights on every mountain flung:
When lo! a sudden blast the vessel blew, 23
And to the surge consign'd its little crew.
All, all escap'd....but ere the lover bore

His faint and faded Julia to the shore,
Her sense had fled!....Exhausted by the storm,
A fatal trance hung o'er her pallid form;
Her closing eye a trembling lustre fir'd;
'Twas life's last spark....it flutter'd and expir'd!

The father strew'd his white hairs in the wind, Call'd on his child....nor linger'd long behind: And Florio liv'd to see the willow wave,

With many an evening whisper, o'er their grave.
Yes, Florio liv'd....and, still of each possest,
The father cherish'd, and the maid caress'd!

Forever would the fond enthusiast rove, With Julia's spirit through the shadowy grove; Gaze with delight on every scene she plann'd, Kiss every floweret planted by her hand.

Ah! still he trac'd her steps along the glade,.
When hazy hues, and glimmering lights betray'd
Half-viewless forms; still listen'd as the breeze
Heav'd its deep sobs among the aged trees;
And at each pause her melting accents caught,
In sweet delirium of romantic thought!
Dear was the grot that shunn'd the blaze of day;
She gave its spars to shoot a trembling ray.
The spring that bubbled from its inmost cell,
Murmur'd of Julia's virtues as it fell;

And o'er the dripping moss, the fretted stone,
In Florio's ear breath'd language not its own,
Her charm around the enchantress Memory threw,
A charm that soothes the mind, and sweetens too!

But is her magic only felt below?

Say, through what brighter realms she bids it flow;

24

To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere, 2
She yields delight but faintly imag'd here:
All that till now their rapt researches knew,
Not call'd in slow succession to review;
But, as a landscape meets the eye of day,
At once presented to their glad survey!

Each scene of bliss reveal'd since chaos fled,
And dawning light its dazzling glories spread;
Each chain of wonders that sublimely glow'd,
Since first Creation's choral anthem flow'd;
Each ready flight, at Mercy's smile divine,
To distant worlds that undiscover'd shine;
Full on her tablet flings its living rays,

And all, combin'd, with blest effulgence blaze.

There thy bright train, immortal Friendship soar,

No more to part, to mingle tears no more!
And, as the softening hand of Time endears
The joys and sorrows of our infant-years,

So there the soul, releas'd from human strife,
Smiles at the little cares and ills of life;

Its light and shade, its sunshine and its showers;
As at a dream that charm'd her vacant hours;

Oft may the spirits of the dead descend, To watch the silent slumbers of a friend; To hover round his evening-walk unseen, And hold sweet converse on the dusky green; To hail the spot where first their friendship grew, And heaven and nature open'd to their view!