Samuel Rogers (1763–1855)

OH! that the Chemist’s magic art

Could crystallize this sacred treasure!

Long should it glitter near my heart,

A secret source of pensive pleasure.

The little brilliant, ere it fell,

Its lustre caught from Chloe’s eye;

Then, trembling, left its coral cell—

The spring of Sensibility!

Sweet drop of pure and pearly light!

In thee the rays of Virtue shine;

More calmly clear, more mildly bright,

Than any gem that gilds the mine.

Benign restorer of the soul!

Who ever fly’st to bring relief,

When first we feel the rude controul

Of Love or Pity, Joy or Grief.

The sage’s and the poet’s theme,

In every clime, in every age;

Thou charm’st in Fancy’s idle dream,

In Reason’s philosophic page.

That very law which moulds a tear,

And bids it trickle from its source,

That law preserves the earth a sphere,

And guides the planets in their course.