Whose dark eyes flashed thro' locks of blackest shade, Ah, then, what honest triumph flushed my breast; He breathed his prayer," Long may such goodness live!" 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, From whom that musing, melancholy mood Blest MEMORY, hail! Oh grant the grateful Muse, Her pencil dipt in Nature's living hues, Το pass the clouds that round thy empire roll, And trace its airy precincts in the soul. Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, The subtle, quick vibrations as they play; At once illumined when the cloud is past. Survey the globe, each ruder realm explore; Namque illic posuit solium, et sua templa sacravit |