O'er the still lake the bell of evening tolled, And on the green hill's side the meteor played; Hence away, nor dare intrude! In this secret, shadowy cell Musing MEMORY loves to dwell, With her sister Solitude. Far from the busy world she flies, Reviewing Life's eventful page; The little lines of yesterday. FLORIO had gained a rude and rocky seat, When lo, the Genius of this still retreat! Can VIRGIL'S verse, can RAPHAEL'S touch impart Those tenderer tints that shun the careless eye, She left the cave, nor marked the stranger there; Her pastoral beauty and her artless air Had breathed a soft enchantment o'er his soul: Age had not quenched one spark of manly fire; But giant Gout had bound him in her chain, Yet here Remembrance, sweetly-soothing Power! Winged with delight Confinement's lingering hour. The fox's brush still emulous to wear, He scoured the country in his elbow-chair; And, with view-hallow, roused the dreaming hound, How would he dwell on the vast antlers there! These dashed the wave, those fanned the mountain air, All, as they frowned, unwritten records bore Of gallant feats and festivals of yore. But why the tale prolong ?-His only child, His darling JULIA on the stranger smiled. |