That his charmed hand the careless rein resigned, And doubts and terrors vanished from his mind.

Recal the traveller, whose altered form

Has born the buffet of the mountain-storm;

And who will first his fond impatience meet?
His faithful dog's already at his feet;

Yes, though the porter spurn him from his door,

Though all that knew him, know his face no more,
His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each,

With that mute eloquence which passes speech.

And see, the master but returns to die!

Yet who shall bid the watchful servant fly?

The blasts of heaven, the drenching dews of earth,

The wanton insults of unfeeling mirth;

These, when to guard misfortune's sacred grave,

Will firm fidelity exult to brave.

Led by what chart, transports the timid dove

The wreath of conquest, or the vows of love?

Say, through the clouds what compass points her flight?'

Monarchs have gazed, and nations blessed the sight.

Pile rocks on rocks, bid woods and mountains rise,

Eclipse her native shades her native skies ;......
Tis vain! through ether's pathless wilds she goes,
And lights at last where all her cares repose.

Sweet bird! thy truth shall Harlem's walls attest,

And unborn ages consecrate thy nest,

When with the silent energy of grief,

With looks that asked, yet dared not hope relief,
Want with her babes, round generous valor clung,
To wring the slow surrender from his tongue,
Twas thine to animate her closing eye;

Alas! twas thine perchance the first to die, [the sky.
Crushed by her meagre hand, when welcomed from

Hark! the bee winds her small but mellow horn, *

Blithe to salute the sunny smile of morn,

O'er thymy downs she bends her busy course,
And many a stream allures her to its source.
Tis noon, tis night. That eye so finely wrought.

Beyond the search of sense, the soar of thought,

Now vainly asks the scenes she left behind;
Its orb so full, its vision so confined!

Who guides the patient pilgrim to her cell?

Who bids her soul with conscious triumph swell? With conscious truth retrace the mazy clue

Of varied scents, that charmed her as she flew ! Hail, MEMORY, hail! thy universal reign

Guards the least link of Being's glorious chain.