But brief, alas! the spell,—for suddenly
Peal'd from the tower the old familiar chimes,
And with their clear, heart-thrilling melody,
Awaked the spectral forms of darker times
And I remember'd all that years had wrought—
How bow'd my care-worn frame, how dimm'd my eye,
How poor the gauds by Youth so keenly sought,
How quench'd and dull Youth's aspirations high!
And in half mournful, half upbraiding host,
Duties neglected—high resolves unkept—