The Retrospect

Yet still will Memory's busy eye retrace
Each little vestige of the well-known place;
Each wonted haunt and scene of youthful joy,
Where merriment has cheer'd the careless boy ;
Well-pleased will fancy still the spot survey
Where once he triumph'd in the boyish play,
Without one care where every morn he rose,
Where every evening sunk to calm repose.

Oh as I journey through the vale of years,
By hopes enliven'd, or depress'd by fears.
Allow me, Memory, in thy treasured store,
To view the days that will return no more.
And yes ! before thine intellectual ray
The clouds of mental darkness melt away !
As when, at earliest day's awakening dawn,
The hovering mists obscure the dewy lawn,
O'er all the landscape spread their influence chill,
Hang o'er the vale and wood, and hide the hill ;
Anon, slow-rising, comes the orb of day ;
Slow fade the shadowy mists and roll away ;
The prospect opens on the traveller's sight,
And hills and vales and woods reflect the living light.

O thou, the mistress of my future days,
Accept thy minstrel's retrospective lays;
To whom the minstrel and the lyre belong,
Accept, my Edith, Memory's pensive song.
Of long-past days I sing, ere yet I knew

Or thought and grief, or happiness and you ;
Ere yet my infant heart had learnt to prove
The cares of life, the hopes and fears of love.

Corston, twelve years in various fortunes fled
Have past with restless progress o'er my head,
Since in thy vale, beneath the master's rule,

I dwelt an inmate of the village school.

Large was the house, though fallen in course, of fate.
From its old grandeur and manorial state.
Lord of the manor, here the jovial Squire
Once called his tenants round the crackling fire ;
Here while the glow of joy suffused his face,
He told his ancient exploits in the chase.
And, proud his rival sportsmen to surpass,
He lit again the pipe, and fill'd again the glass.

But now no more was heard at early morn
The echoing clangor of the huntsman's horn ;
No more the eager hounds with deepening cry
Leapt round him as they knew their pastime nigh;
The Squire no more obey'd the morning call,
Nor favourite spaniels fill'd the sportsman's hall ;
For he, the last descendant of his race,
Slept with his fathers, and forgot the chase.
There now in petty empire o'er the school
The mighty Master held despotic rule ;
Trembling in silence all his deeds we saw,
His look a mandate, and his word a law ;
Severe his voice, severe and stern his mien.
And wondrous strict he was, and wondrous wise
I ween.

£Even now through many a long, long year I trace
The hour when first with awe I view'd his face ;
Even now recall my entrance at the dome, —
'Twas the first day I ever left my home !
Years intervening have not worn away
The deep remembrance of that wretched day,
Nor taught me to forget my earliest fears,
A mother's fondness, and a mother's tears ;
When close she press'd me to her sorrowing heart,
As loath as even I myself to part;

And I, as I beheld her sorrows flow,
With painful effort hid my inward woe.

But time to youthful troubles brings relief.
And each new object weans the child from grief.
Like April showers the tears of youth descend ;
Sudden they fall, and suddenly they end,
And fresher pleasure cheers the following hour.
As brighter shines the sun after the April shower.

Methinks even now the interview I see,
The Mistress's glad smile, the Master's glee ;
Much of my future happiness they said.
Much of the easy life the scholars led.
Of spacious play-ground and of wholesome air.
The best instruction and the tenderest care ;
And when I followed to the garden-door
My father, till through tears I saw no more,
How civilly they soothed my parting pain !
And never did they speak so civilly again.