The Retrospect

Amid the scenes of noise and strife, That sadly sorrow human life And cause continual woes; What soft sensation sooths my breast, Bids every jarring passion rest, And transient bliss bestows.

'Tis faithful Memory's friendly hand, That waves her all-enlivening wand, And brings to fancy's view; What time when wing'd with gay delight, Each thoughtless day and easy night, On pleasure's pinions flew.

Wafts me to S—'s fertile plains, Where, first I sung my infant strains, A rude, unpolish'd boy; Where, fraught with innocence and Truth, The lively sports of early youth, Produc'd a guiltless joy.

There, pleas'd I trace the flow'ry mead, And round the well-known elm-trees tread, Where oft I've careless play'd; And sure my choicest days were spent, Cheer'd with the smiles of glad Content, Beneath their peaceful shade.

The distant view of N—'s hills, My breast with exultation fills, Long time the bounded walk; There oft I've shar'd the sweet regale, Partook th' allotted cakes and ale, And held the sprightly talk.

The church, the yard, the neighb'ring yew, All join to warm my heart a-new, And pastimes past recall; 'Twas here I lash'd the murm'ring top, Here drove the tile with eager hop, There struck the bounding ball.

Nor shall fair Learning's sacred spot, Be by the grateful Muse forgot, Or heedless left unsung; Where dawning Reason first began The deeds of ancient dead to scan, And urge th'enquiring tongue.

Where, studious still maturing age, Explor'd the long instructive page, And emulous of fame, Consuming oft th' evening oil, Enjoy'd a pleasing-painful toil To raise a future name.

Hail, happy state of infant years! There lovely Peace her temple rears, And smiling stands confest: There Virtue holds her cheerful court, And youthful, gay desires resort To charm the tranquil breast.

No lawless passions Wound the mind, There pleasures leave no sting behind, Sad source of other's care; Nor fell Remorse, nor envious ire, Nor black Revenge, with purpose dire, Occasion dark despair.

Their's is the rosy bloom of health, The boundless transport snatch'd by stealth, The heart devoid of guile; What riper manhood seldom knows, The peaceful undisturb'd repose, And undissembled smile.

Regardless of to-morrow's doom, They feel no dread of ills to come, Nor Pleasure's feast forego; The playful day their great relief, The task unlearn'd their only grief. The rod their only foe.

Ah, ever to be envied hours! When no sad thought of future fours— No distant fears annoy; No past reflections intervene To pain the bosom's calm serene, Or damp the present joy.

Affliction's load they seldom bear, 'Tis theirs to shed the short-liv'd tear For sorrows soon forgot; The sweets that from Contentment flow, That health and peace of mind bestow, Complete their happy lot.