Samuel Rogers

S. Whitchurch, "Lines written on a blank Leaf in Rogers's Pleasures of Memory" The Monthly Magazine 15 (February 1803) 37.

With Rogers, oft' on Memory's verdant plain,
Life's devious path I travel o'er again;
Far back on scenes bepast retire to find
Some stile once cross'd, or way-mark left behind;
Tracing each toilsome march, or frolic gay,
As thorns beset, or flowers bestrew'd the way;
Quaffing from Youth's gilt cup, by Memory giv'n,
The nectar draughts and cordial drops of heav'n.
Oft I revisit Sorrow's gloomy vale,
To learn again some melancholy tale;
And oft' at midnight's silent hour I'm led
To hail the angel-spirits of the dead,
Pleas'd to believe some sainted-friend might hear,
And come and witness true affection's tear.

Oh! how I love the Muse divinely taught
By the still voice of ever-living Thought;
That conscious throws her eagle-glance behind
To ken the jewels sparkling in the mind;
That, snatching from the wrecks of lapsed time
Some holy relic to bedeck her rhime,
Renews acquaintance with the absent wife,
With kindred souls translated to the skies;
Calls life's fled visions back to cheer the sight,
And pours on death's dark scenes a flood of light;
That, wrapt with views by magic fancy giv'n,
Holds sweet communion with her friends in heav'n!