Part Second. SONNET XVIII. As one who, long by wasting sickness worn, Weary has watch'd the ling'ring night, and heard Heartless the carol of the matin bird Salute his lonely porch, now first at morn He the green slope and level meadow views, Or turns his ear to every random song, Heard the green river's winding marge along, The whilst each sense is steep'd in still delight. With such delight, o'er all my heart I feel, Sweet Hope! thy fragrance pure and healing incense steal. SONNET XIX. OCTOBER 1792. Go then, and join the roaring city's throng! Me thou dost leave to solitude and tears, To busy phantasies, and boding fears, Lest ill betide thee: but 'twill not be long, And the hard season shall be past: till then Live happy; sometimes the forsaken shade Rememb'ring, and these trees now left to fade; Nor, 'mid the busy scenes and "hum of men," Wilt thou my cares forget: in heaviness To me the hours shall roll, weary and slow, Till mournful autumn past, and all the snow Of winter pale! the glad hour I shall bless, That shall restore thee from the croud again, To the green hamlet in the peaceful plain. SONNET XX. NOVEMBER 1792. THERE is strange musick in the stirring wind, When low'rs th' autumnal eve, and all alone To the dark wood's cold covert thou art gone, Whose ancient trees on the rough slope reclin'd Rock, and at times scatter their tresses sear. If in such shades, beneath their murmuring, Thou late hast pass'd the happier hours of spring, With sadness thou wilt mark the fading year, Chiefly if one, with whom such sweets at morn Or eve thou'st shar'd, to distant scenes shall stray. O spring, return! return, auspicious May! But sad will be thy coming, and forlorn, If she return not with thy cheering ray, Who from these shades is gone, gone far away. |