Till suddenly a sad, and soothing strain
Pours forth such raptures on the ravish'd ear,
That fills the soul with love's delicious pain,
Waking the trembling hope, the anxious fear,
The smile of joy, and pity's tender tear;
As plaintively the love-lorn Nightingale
Swells her sad song of sorrow, full and clear,
Waking soft Echo in the dewy vale,

To sing in sweet response to her heart-moving tale.—

But chief the hapless Lover as he strays

Pensive, and lone, amid the dews of night,

Drinks in the kindred raptures of her lays,

And sighs, and weeps-entranc'd with strange delight;

And mourns his own so sad, and piteous plight;
'Plaining of bitter fate, and hopeless loves,

Of perjur❜d vows, and cruel maid's despite ;
Murmuring his brain-sick fancies as he roves—

Like some sad, wandering Sprite, that haunts the

But now is hushed the sadly soothing song,

And stilly, slumberous silence reigns profound,
Save where the humming beetle wheels along,
Or flitting bat that wings his nightly round,
Mid ruin'd piles, with moss, and ivy crown'd;
Or where the dismal Owl in hoary tower

Startles the Night's dull ear with fearful sound-
The boding knell of Death's approaching hour
To hapless souls, a prey to Superstition's power.

At length fair Phœbe-pensive Queen of night!
From cloudy shrine shoots forth a paly gleam;
Dim darkness struggles with the dubious light,
And objects faintly glimmer in the beam;

Till bursting forth, she pours her silvery stream
Of lustre bright, o'er valley, hill, and grove-

The glowing landscape wakes from night's dark dream,
And seems where'er the gazer's eye may rove,

To bask in calm delight beneath her light of love:

The pearly earth begemm'd with dewy tears,
Beaming beneath her soft, and silvery showers,
One trembling sea of liquid light appears,

Strew'd with fair Isles of glittering groves and bowers,
Which Fancy fills with bright, aerial Powers-

Sweet Sprites that fly the face of garish day,

And haunt lone isles, and lakes, and time-worn towers-
And as soft Zephyrs thro' the light leaves stray,
She hears their plaintive songs, whilst lyres Æolian play.

But, fare ye well! ye valleys, meads, and bowers, Ye hills, and dales, and woods, and tufted groves, Ye purling streams, sweet birds, and sweeter flowers, Ye blissful scenes, and joys, aud rural loves! Where gentle Peace, with musing Fancy roves :Farewell thou flowery Queen! sweet-smiling Spring! With all thy jocund train of laughing Hours,

And thou my Harp, 'till next I strike the string

In untaught rustic strains,—and Summer's praises

SONNET,

WRITTEN AT SEA, SEPTEMBER, 1826.

I LOVE ye, ye fair creatures of the night !—
Ye smile so sweet in Beauty's beamy dress,
Ye look so tranquil, pure in loveliness,
My soul drinks in your pearly, liquid light,
Till quite bewilder'd—why so heavenly bright?
Why is such beauty in your being blent,
To fill all hearts with such high ravishment,
And some to idolize the rapturous sight?

Ah! not to tempt us to idolatry;

For if ye are so lovely, wond'rous fair,

How much more wond'rous, lovely fair is He

Who made ye thus, all beauteous as ye are,
And thus adorn'd, to speak aloud His praise,

That Man should Him adore, Him worship whilst

they gaze.

SONNET,

WRITTEN AT SEA, SEPTEMBER, 1826.

I HAD a dream-a dread, and fearful dream!
Methought I stood upon the rugged steep
Of an high-tow'ring cliff, whose head did seem
To hang in air, and beetle o'er the deep;—
But Oh! the sight beneath did make me weep,
Of shipwreck'd souls, to hear their dying scream
Of drowning agony; well might I deem

'Twas sad reality, no thing of sleep :— Then as I strove to clamber down the dread, And fearful precipice, in hope to save

Some drowning mortal from a watery grave,

Methought the rocks did break beneath my tread, And, falling headlong, suddenly did wake

In wild amaze, and fear, that made my bones to