"There is a something in a well known view,
That seems to shew our long past pleasures through;
Sure in the eye a fairy land is found,
When former scenes bring former friends around.
Let but the woods, the rocks, the streams appear,
And every friend you see and think you hear;
Their words, their dress, their every look, you find
Swell to the sight, and burst upon the mind;
Though many a spring has lent the blossom gay,
And many an autumn blown the leaf away,
Unchang'd the lasting images remain,
Of which Remembrance ever holds the chain.
E'en the mind's eye a glassy mirror shews,
And far too deeply her bold pencil draws;
The life-like pictures rise before the sight,
Glow through the day, and sparkle through the night.
Ah! sure e'en now my Ethelind appears,
Though dimly seen through this sad vale of tears.
That winning form, where elegance has wove
The thousand softnesses of gentlest love;
That meaning eye, that artless blushing cheek,
Which leaves so little for the tongue to speak;
The nameless graces of her polish'd mind;
That laughing wit, and serious sense refined;
That altogether which no art can reach,
And which 'tis nature's very rare to teach;
That nameless something which pervades the soul,
Wins not by halves, but captivates the whole;
Yet, if one feature shone before the rest,
'Twas surely Pity by Religion drest.
Have I not seen the softly stealing tear,
Hung in her eye, like gem in Ethiop's ear!
Whilst the dark orb the glittering diamond shed,
From her fair cheek the frighten'd roses fled,
Asham'd that, such a gem so sweetly clear,
Aught, save the lily, should presume to wear.