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 step, 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 copfe, 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;

Imps, in the barn with moufing owlet bred,

From rifled rooft at nightly revel fed;

Whofe dark eyes flafh'd thro' locks of blackeft fhade, 115

When in the breeze the diftant watch-dog bay'd:

And heroes fled the Sybil's mutter'd call,

Whofe elfin prowefs fcal'd the orchard-wall.

As o'er my palm the filver piece she drew,

And trac'd the line of life with searching view, 120 How throbb'd my fluttering pulfe with hopes and fears, To learn the colour of my future years!

125

Ah, then, what honeft triumph flufh'd my breaft! This truth once known-To blefs is to be bleft! We led the bending beggar on his way; (Bare were his feet, his treffes filver-gray) Sooth'd the keen pangs his aged spirit felt, And on his tale with mute attention dwelt.

As in his fcrip we dropt our little store,

And wept to think that little was no more,

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He breath'd his prayer, "Long may such goodness

live!"

'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give.

But hark! thro' thofe old firs, with fullen fwell The church-clock ftrikes! ye tender scenes, farewell! It calls me hence, beneath their shade, to trace The few fond lines that Time may foon efface.

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On yon gray ftone, that fronts the chancel-door,

Worn fmooth by bufy feet now feen no more,

Each eve we shot the marble thro' the ring,

When the heart danc'd, and life was in its fpring; 140

Alas! unconfcious of the kindred earth,

That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth.

The glow-worm loves her emerald light to shed,

Where now the fexton refts his hoary head.

Oft, as he turn'd the greenfward with his fpade, 145

He lectur'd every youth that round him play'd;
And, calmly pointing where his fathers lay,
Rous'd him to rival each, the hero of his day.

Hush, ye fond flutterings, hufh! while here alone. I fearch the records of each mouldering ftone. 150 Guides of my life! Inftructors of my youth!

Who first unveil'd the hallow'd form of Truth;

Whofe every word enlighten'd and endear'd;

In age belov'd, in poverty rever'd;

In Friendship's filent regifter ye live,

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Nor ask the vain memorial Art can give.

But when the fons of peace and pleasure sleep,

When only Sorrow wakes, and wakes to weep,

What spells entrance my vifionary mind,

With fighs so sweet, with raptures fo refin'd? 160

Ethereal Power! whofe fmile, at noon of night,

Recalls the far-fled spirit of delight;

Inftils that mufing, melancholy mood,

Which charms the wife, and elevates the good;

Bleft MEMORY, hail! Oh, grant the grateful Mufe, 165

Her pencil dipt in Nature's living hues,

To pafs the clouds that round thy empire roll,

And trace its airy precincts in the foul.

Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain,

Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain. 170