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ODE TO MEMORY.
“How fondly he traces the days
SAY-Oh! say-mysterious Power!
Source of many a blissful hour,
Whence thy more than wizard's spell ?
Which at midnight's gloom will rise
“ Like the worm that never dies ;"
And in Hecate's solemn reign,
Can usurp the subject brain.
(Slumbʼring o’er the grave debate ;) Thou ! the aged Peer canst fire, And with Holland's name inspire.
Thou ! the soldier canst beguile,
Many a long and weary mile;
Thou ! canst charm the faded belle,
In retirement's deepest cell ;
Thou ! in India's sun-burnt clime,
Soften’d by the hand of Time;
Canst each woodbined cot restore,
As the stormy billows roar.
In Calypso’s magic isle,
Sage Ulysses felt thy smile ;
Thou! poor Selkirk, once consolid,
Where the great Pacific rolld.
Thou! arrested Ormond's tear,
Weeping o'er his offspring's bier ;* Thou! at Rebec's fatal day;
Gilded Bayard's setting ray.t
* I would not exchange my dead son for any living one in Christendom."
Ormond on the Death of Lord Ossory. + See his answer to Bourbon, when mortally wounded at Rebec.
Robertson's Charles V. book iii.
ODE TO MEMORY.
Thou ! attir'd in vestal hue,
Cheerd intrepid Argyle's view; Thy soft whisper lulld each breath, 'Till his suff’rings clos’d in death.*
And when Heav'n ordains my turn,
From the fabled sisters urn,
Or in Age's wintry shade,
As even Hope herself retires,
And her brilliant orb expires;
When of youth and friends bereft,
Oh! reflected in thy glass,
See Mr. Fox's Historical Work, chap. iii.
“ Gaudet equis, canibusque,
“ So the trousseau,' at last is prepar’d,
(Fair Belinda exclaims with a sigh ;) “And how can Lord Townley be spar'd ?”
Forms alone the desponding reply.
Yet 'ere the soft link has been tied,
Like the Gordian fable of old,
One moment, oh ! leave the sweet bride,
And our Benedict's portrait unfold.