SONNET XIII. Why will you break upon my sorrows? why Disturb the silent anguish of my soul? Oh I am drunk with Sorrow's bitter bowl,. And clad in woe the spectre Memory Haunts me; and Hope that rais'd her beauteous brow Erewhile in sorrow smiling, as the flower Blooms thro' the dew, now droops. The gloomy hour Awhile to calm the troubled waves of woe. S. F. SONNET XIV. How soothing sweet methinks it is to walk Of hopeless Love, and weep upon my wounds, S.. F. SONNET XV. That gooseberry-bush attracts my wandering eyes, When those grey woods shall don their summer dress I sit and think that soon the advancing year With golden flowers shall star the verdant vale. Then may the enthusiast Youth at eve's lone hour, Led by mild Melancholy's placid power, Go listen to the soothing nightingale And feed on meditation; while that I Remain at home and feed on gooseberry-pye. K SONNET XVI. STONEHENGE, By the late ROBERT LOVE L L. Was it a Spirit on yon shapeless pile? Whose careless steps these sacred haunts profane. O'er the wild plain the hurrying tempest flies, And 'mid the storm unheard, the song of Sorrow dies. SONNET XVII. By the late ROBERT LOVELL. The cloudy blackness gathers o'er the sky Fair Nature's face for Indignation high : Might hurl promiscuous vengeance with wild hand And Fear, with fierce precipitation throw Blind ruin wide: while Hate with scowling brow Feigns patriot rage. O PRIESTLEY, for thy wand, Or FRANKLIN ! thine, with calm expectant joy To tame the storm and with mysterious force In viewless channel shape the lightning's course To purify Creation, not destroy. So should fair order from the Tempest rise And Freedom's sun-beams gild unclouded skies. |