Classic Poem

WRITTEN IN N ETLEY A BBEY, NEAR S OUTHAMPTON .

Where Netley, rising from the hollow dell,
Lifts his grey tow'rs, I muse on days of yore,
And think what tears have bath'd this aged floor,
How oft the Virgin in her stony cell
To the slow moaning of the midnight bell
Responsive sigh'd, recalling those sweet days,
When free she led the dance's sprightly maze,
With many a youthful friend she lov'd full well,
On her dear native banks: those banks so fair
Rush'd on her mind, and those strong charms, that stole
To Love's enchanting joys her spotless soul;
She ey'd the passing sail with anxious care,
And wish'd, rememb'ring all his winning charms,
That sail would bear her to her Lover's arms.