But years advancing undermined his health; Then oft-times in delightful dream he flew To England’s shore, and scenes his childhood knew: He saw his parents, saw his fav’rite maid, 420 No feature wrinkled, not a charm decay’d; And, thus excited, in his bosom rose A wish so strong, it baffled his repose; Anxious he felt on English earth to lie; To view his native soil, and there to die. He then described the gloom, the dread he found, When first he landed on the chosen ground, Where undefined was all he hoped and fear’d, And how confused and troubled all appear’d; His thoughts in past and present scenes employ’d, 430 All views in future blighted and destroy’d: His were a medley of bewild’ring themes, Sad as realities, and wild as dreams. Here his relation closes, but his mind Flies back again, some resting-place to find; Thus silent, musing through the day, he sees His children sporting by those lofty trees, Their mother singing in the shady scene, Where the fresh springs burst o’er the lively green;-- So strong his eager fancy, he affrights 440 The faithful widow by its powerful flights; For what disturbs him he aloud will tell, And cry--“’Tis she, my wife! my Isabel! Where are my children?”--Judith grieves to hear How the soul works in sorrows so severe; Assiduous all his wishes to attend, Deprived of much, he yet may boast a friend; Watch’d by her care, in sleep, his spirit takes Its flight, and watchful finds her when he wakes. ’Tis now her office; her attention see! 450 While her friend sleeps beneath that shading tree, Careful she guards him from the glowing heat, And pensive muses at her Allen’s feet. And where is he? Ah! doubtless in those scenes Of his best days, amid the vivid greens, Fresh with unnumber’d rills, where ev’ry gale Breathes the rich fragrance of the neighb’ring vale; Smiles not his wife, and listens as there comes The night-bird’s music from the thickening glooms? And as he sits with all these treasures nigh, } 460 Blaze not with fairy light the phosphor-fly, } When like a sparkling gem it wheels illumined by? } This is the joy that now so plainly speaks In the warm transient flushing of his cheeks; For he is list’ning to the fancied noise Of his own children, eager in their joys: All this he feels, a dream’s delusive bliss Gives the expression, and the glow like this. And now his Judith lays her knitting by, These strong emotions in her friend to spy; 470 For she can fully of their nature deem---- } But see! he breaks the long-protracted theme, } And wakes and cries--“My God! ’twas but a dream.” } TALE III. _THE GENTLEMAN FARMER_.