As o'er the dusky furniture I bend,

Each chair awakes the feelings of a friend.

The ftoried arras, fource of fond delight,
With old achievement charms the wilder'd fight;
And still, with Heraldry's rich hues imprest,

On the dim window glows the pictur'd crest.
The screen unfolds its many-colour'd chart.
The clock still points its moral to the heart.
That faithful monitor 'twas heav'n to hear!

When soft it spoke a promis'd pleasure near:
And has its fober hand, its fimple chime,

Forgot to trace the feather'd feet of Time ?

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That maffive beam, with curious carvings wrought,

Whence the caged linnet footh'd my penfive thought;

Those muskets cas'd with venerable rust;

65

Those once-lov'd forms, still breathing thro' their dust,

Still from the frame, in mould gigantic caft,,

Starting to life all whisper of the paft!

As thro' the garden's defert paths I rove,

What fond illufions fwarm in every grove!

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How oft, when purple evening ting'd the weft,

We watch'd the emmet to her grainy neft;
Welcom'd the wild-bee home on wearied wing,

Laden with sweets, the choiceft of the spring!
How oft inscrib'd, with Friendship's votive rhyme, 75

The bark now filver'd by the touch of Time;

Soar'd in the swing, half pleas'd and half afraid,

Thro' fifter elms that wav'd their fummer-fhade;

Or ftrew'd with crumbs yon root-inwoven seat,

To lure the redbreaft from his lone retreat!

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Childhood's lov'd

group

revifits every scene,

The tangled wood-walk, and the tufted green!

Indulgent MEMORY wakes, and, lo! they live!

Cloth'd with far fofter hues than Light can give. Thou laft, best friend that Heav'n affigns below, 85 To footh and sweeten all the cares we know ;

Whofe glad fuggeftions still each vain alarm,

When nature fades, and life forgets to charm ;

Thee would the Muse invoke !-to thee belong

The fage's precept, and the poet's fong.

What foften'd views thy magic glass reveals,

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When o'er the landscape Time's meek twilight steals!

As when in ocean finks the orb of day,

Long on the wave reflected luftres play;

Thy temper'd gleams of happiness resign'd

Glance on the darken'd mirror of the mind.

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The School's lone porch, with reverend moffes gray,

Juft tells the penfive pilgrim where it lay.

Mute is the bell that

rung at peep of dawn,

Quickening my truant-feet across the lawn:

Unheard the fhout that rent the noontide air,

When the flow dial gave a pause to care.

Up fprings, at every ftep, to claim a tear,

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Some little friendship form'd, and cherish'd here! And not the lighteft leaf, but trembling teems 105 With golden vifions, and romantic dreams!

Down by yon hazel copse, at evening, blaz'd
The Gipfy's faggot-there we ftood and gaz'd ;
Gaz'd on her fun-burnt face with filent awe,
Her tatter'd mantle, and her hood of straw;
Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er ;
The drowsy brood that on her back she bore,

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