Samuel Rogers

Anonymous, "Stanzas written after reading The Pleasures of Memory by Rogers" Lady's Monthly Museum NS 13 (September 1812) 173.

Blest are thy tuneful strains, their soft controul
With more than seraph sweetness seems to flow;
They speak, they breathe, a harmony of soul,
By care unclouded, unalloy'd by woe.

How envi'd is thy lot, how few can feel
The calm thy fairy pencil here pourtrays!
Or, led by pensive memory, gladly steal
Back to the rosy hours of former days!

A weary trav'ler through this vale of tears,
O'er sorrow's dull cold waste forlorn I tread;
Where no lov'd visions of departed years,
With ray divine, their cheerful halos shed.

The airy dreams of friendship, love, and truth,
Imagination once so warmly drew,
That oft were wont to flush the cheek of youth,
For me no more their faded charms renew.

Yet tho', while gazing on life's prospects dear,
The deep-drawn sighs of disappointment start;
Thine, sweetest minstrel, is the power to cheer
With many a soothing lay the mourner's heart.