Ye gentle spirits of departed friends! If e’er on earth your buoyant wing descends; If, with benignant care, ye linger near, To guard the objects in existence dear; If, hovering o’er, ethereal band! ye view The tender sorrows, to _your_ memory true; Oh! in the musing hour, at midnight deep, While for your loss affection wakes to weep; While every sound in hallow’d stillness lies, But the low murmur of her plaintive sighs; Oh! then, amidst that holy calm be near, Breathe your light whisper softly in her ear; With secret spells her wounded mind compose, And chase the faithful tear--for you that flows: Be near--when moonlight spreads the charm you loved O’er scenes where once your _earthly_ footstep roved. Then, while she wanders o’er the sparkling dew, Through glens and wood-paths, once endear’d by you, And fondly lingers in your favourite bowers, And pauses oft, recalling former hours; Then wave your pinion o’er each well-known vale, Float in the moonbeam, sigh upon the gale; Bid your wild symphonies remotely swell, Borne by the summer-wind from grot and dell; And touch your viewless harps, and soothe her soul With soft enchantments and divine control! Be near, sweet guardians! watch her sacred rest, When Slumber folds her in his magic vest; Around her, smiling, let your forms arise, Return’d in dreams, to bless her mental eyes; Efface the memory of your last farewell-- Of glowing joys, of radiant prospects tell; The sweet communion of the past renew, Reviving former scenes, array’d in softer hue. Be near when death, in virtue’s brightest hour, Calls up each pang, and summons all his power; Oh! then, transcending Fancy’s loveliest dream, Then let your forms unveil’d around her beam; Then waft the vision of unclouded light, A burst of glory, on her closing sight; Wake from the harp of heaven th’ immortal strain, To hush the final agonies of pain; With rapture’s flame the parting soul illume, And smile triumphant through the shadowy gloom! Oh! still be near, when, darting into day, Th’ exulting spirit leaves her bonds of clay; Be yours to guide her fluttering wings on high O’er many a world, ascending to the sky; There let your presence, once her earthly joy, Though dimm’d with tears and clouded with alloy, Now form her bliss on that celestial shore Where death shall sever kindred hearts no more.