WHEN AGE HAS QUENCHED THE EYE AND CLOSED THE EAR, STILL NERVED FOR ACTION IN HER NATIVE SPHERE,

"OH! WHO CAN TELL THE TRIUMPHS OF THE MIND,

MEMORY.

357

OFT WILL SHE RISE, WITH SEARCHING GLANCE PURSUE SOME LONG-LOVED IMAGE VANISHED FROM HER VIEW."-ROGERS.

["The churchyard yews round which his fathers sleep."]

The village common spotted white with sheep,
The churchyard yews round which his fathers sleep,-
All rouse Reflection's sadly-pleasing train,

And oft he looks and weeps, and looks again.

[From the "Pleasures of Memory," part i.-"a poem exquisite in conception and execution, combining a fine feeling of nature and a high tone of morality, with elegant scholarship, and a nicety of taste approaching to fastidiousness."]

BY TRUTH ILLUMINED AND BY TASTE REFINED?

ABOVE, BELOW, AERIAL MURMURS SWELL, FROM HANGING WOOD, BROWN HEATH, AND BUSHY DELL-ROGERS)

358

WHEN PENSIVE TWILIGHT, IN HER DUSKY CAR,

SAMUEL ROGERS.

THE NEW WORLD.

JONG on the deep the mists of morning lay,*

Then rose, revealing, as they rolled away,
Half-circling hills, whose everlasting woods
Sweep with their sable skirts the shadowy floods:
And say, when all to holy transport given,

Embraced and wept as at the gates of Heaven,
When one and all of us, repentant, ran,
And, on our faces, blessed the wondrous man ;
Say, was I then deceived, or from the skies
Burst on my ear seraphic harmonies?

66

"Glory to God!" unnumbered voices sung,
Glory to God!" the vales and mountains rung,
Voices that hailed Creation's primal morn,
And to the shepherds sung a Saviour born.
Slowly, bare-headed, through the surf we bore
The sacred cross, and, kneeling, kissed the shore.
But what a scene was there! Nymphs of romance,
Youths graceful as the fawn, with eager glance,
Sprung from the glades, and down the valleys peep,
Then headlong rush, bounding from steep to steep,
And clap their hands, exclaiming as they run,
"Come and behold the Children of the Sun!"
When, hark! a signal-shot. The voice, it came
Over the sea in darkness and in flame!
They saw, they heard; and up the highest hill,
As in a picture, all at once were still!
Creatures so fair, in garments strangely wrought,
From citadels, with heaven's own thunder fraught,

*The first land in the New World was discovered by Columbus on Friday, October 12, 1492. It was Guanahani, now called San Salvador, one of the Bahama group of islands.

COMES SLOWLY ON TO MEET THE EVENING STAR;

A THOUSAND NAMELESS RILLS THAT SHUN THE LIGHT, STEALING SOFT MUSIC ON THE EAR OF NIGHT."-ROGERS.

"OFT MAY THE SPIRITS OF THE DEAD DESCEND

HUMAN LIFE.

Checked their light footsteps-statue-like they stood,
As worshipped forms, the genii of the wood!

At length the spell dissolves. The warrior's lance
Rings on the tortoise with wild dissonance!
And see, the regal plumes, the couch of state!
Still where it moves, the wise in council wait!
See now borne forth the monstrous mask of gold,
And ebon chair of many a serpent-fold;

These now exchanged for gifts that thrice surpass
The wondrous ring, and lamp, and horse of brass. *
What long-drawn tube transports the gazer home,
Kindling with stars at noon the ethereal dome?
'Tis here: and here circles of solid light

Charm with another self the cheated sight;
As man to man another self disclose,

That now with terror starts, with rapture glows!

359

[From "Columbus"-a fragmentary poem, pervaded by "a deep-toned

sublimity."]

TO HOVER ROUND HIS EVENING WALK. UNSEEN, AND HOLD SWEET CONVERSE ON THE DUSKY GREEN;-(SAMUEL ROGERS)

TO HAIL THE SPOT WHERE FIRST THEIR FRIENDSHIP GREW, AND HEAVEN AND NATURE OPENED TO THEIR VIEW!"-ROGERS.

HUMAN LIFE.

|HE lark has sung his carol in the sky;
The bees have hummed their noon-tide harmony.
Still in the vale the village-bells ring round,

Still in Llewellyn-hall the jests resound:
For now the caudle-cup is circling there,
Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their prayer,
And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire
The babe, the sleeping image of his sire.

A few short years, -and then these sounds shall hail
The day again, and gladness fill the vale;

* The ring of Gyges, the lamp of Aladdin, and the horse of the Tartar king-"Cambuscan bold."

TO WATCH THE SILENT SLUMBERS OF A FRIEND;

"THOUGHT AND HER SHADOWY BROOD THY CALL OBEY, AND PLACE AND TIME ARE SUBJECT TO THY SWAY!

HAIL, MEMORY, HAIL! IN THY EXHAUSTLESS MINE,-(Rogers)

SAMUEL ROGERS.

So soon the child a youth, the youth a man,

Eager to run the race his fathers ran.
Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sirloin;
The ale now brewed, in floods of amber shine:
And basking in the chimney's ample blaze,
'Mid many a tale told of his boyish days,
The nurse shall cry, of all her ills beguiled,
"'Twas on these he sat so oft and smiled."

And soon again shall music swell the breeze;
Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees
Vestures of nuptial white; and hymns be sung,
And violets scattered round; and old and young
In every cottage porch with garlands green,
Stand still to gaze, and gazing, bless the scene;
While, her dark eyes declining, by his side,
Moves in her virgin-veil the gentle bride.
And once, alas! nor in a distant hour,
Another voice shall come from yonder tower;
When in dim chambers long black weeds are seen,
And weepings heard where only joy has been;
When by his children borne, and from his door,
Slowly departing to return no more,

He rests in holy earth with them that went before.
And such is human life; so, gliding on,

It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone!
Yet is the tale, brief though it be, as strange,
As full, methinks, of wild and wondrous change,
As any that the wandering tribes require,
Stretched in the desert round their evening-fire;
As any sung of old in hall or bower,

To minstrel's harp at midnight's witching hour!

[From "Human Life"-one of the finest, if not the finest, of Rogers' poems. It has "all the high finish of a cabinet picture."]

FROM AGE TO AGE, UNNUMBERED TREASURES SHINE!"-rogers.

THY PLEASURES MOST WE FEEL WHEN MOST ALONE; THE ONLY PLEASURES WE CAN CALL OUR OWN."-ROGERS.

IF BUT A BEAM OF SOBER REASON PLAY, LO, FANCY'S FAIRY FROST-WORK MELTS AWAY! (SAMUEL ROGERS)

"LIGHTER THAN AIR, HOPE'S SUMMER-VISIONS DIE,

TO THE BUTTERFLY.

361

BUT CAN THE WILES OF ART, THE GRASP OF POWER, MATCH THE RICH RELICS OF A WELL-SPENT HOUR?"-ROGERS

TO THE BUTTERFLY.

HILD of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight,
Mingling with her thou lov'st in fields of light;
And, where the flowers of Paradise unfold,
Quaff fragrant nectar from their cups of gold.
There shall thy wings, rich as an evening sky,
Expand and shut with silent ecstasy!

Yet wert thou once a worm, a thing that crept
On the bare earth, then wrought a tomb, and slept.
And such is man; soon from his cell of clay
To burst a seraph in the blaze of day.

[From Rogers' "Poetical Works."}

IF BUT A FLEETING CLOUD OBSCURE THE SKY;