How many a day, in various hues array’d, Bright with gay sunshine, or eclipsed with shade, How many an hour, on silent wing is past, O my loved Brother! since we saw thee last! Since _then_ has childhood ripen’d into youth, And fancy’s dreams have fled from sober truth; Her splendid fabrics melting into air, As sage experience waved the wand of care! Yet _still_ thine absence wakes the tender sigh, And the tear trembles in affection’s eye! When shall we meet again?--with glowing ray Heart-soothing hope illumes some future day; Checks the sad thought, beguiles the starting tear, And sings benignly still--_that_ day is near! She, with bright eye, and soul-bewitching voice, Wins us to smile, inspires us to rejoice; Tells that the hour approaches, to restore Our cherish’d wanderer to his home once more; Where sacred ties his manly worth endear, To faith still true, affection still sincere! Then the past woes, the future’s dubious lot, In that blest meeting shall be all forgot! And joy’s full radiance gild that sun-bright hour, Though all around th’ impending storm should lower. Now distant far, amidst the intrepid host, Albion’s firm sons, on Lusitania’s coast, (That gallant band, in countless dangers tried, Where glory’s pole-star beams their constant guide,) Say, do thy thoughts, my Brother, fondly stray To Cambria’s vales and mountains far away? Does fancy oft in busy day-dreams roam, And paint the greeting that awaits at home? Does memory’s pencil oft, in mellowing hue, Dear social scenes, departed joys renew; In softer tints delighting to retrace Each tender image and each well-known face? Yes, wanderer! yes! thy spirit flies to those Whose love, unalter’d, warm and faithful glows. Oh! could that love, through life’s eventful hours, Illume thy scenes and strew thy path with flowers! Perennial joy should harmonise thy breast, No struggle rend thee, and no cares molest! But though our tenderness can but bestow The wish, the hope, the prayer, averting woe, Still shall it live, with pure, unclouded flame, In storms, in sunshine, far and near--the same! Still dwell enthroned within th’ unvarying heart, And, firm and _vital_, but with life depart! Bronwylfa, Feb. 8, 1811. LINES WRITTEN IN THE MEMOIRS OF ELIZABETH SMITH. O thou! whose pure, exalted mind, Lives in this record, fair and bright; O thou! whose blameless life combined Soft female charms, and grace refined, With science and with light! Celestial maid! whose spirit soar’d Beyond this vale of tears-- Whose clear, enlighten’d eye explored The lore of years!