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Stately yon vessel sails adown the tide
To some far-distant land adventurous bound, The sailors busy cries from side to side
Pealing among the echoing rocks. resound; A patient, thoughtless, much-enduring band,
Joyful they enter on their ocean way, With shouts exulting leave their native land,
And know no care beyond the present day, But is there no poor mourner left behind,
Who sorrows for a child or husband there? Who at the howling of the midnight wind
Will wake and tremble in her boding prayer? So may her voice be heard, and Heaven be kind Go gallant ship, and be thy fortune fair!
S. SONNET II.
Beware a speedy friend, the Arabian said,
And wisely was it he advised distrust.
The flower that blossoms earliest fades the first. Look at yon oak that lifts its stately head And dallies with the autumnal storm, whose rage
Tempests the ocean waves; slowly it rose,
And timidly did its light leaves unclose
They to the summer cautiously expand,
And by the warmer sun and season bland
O thou sweet Lark that in the heaven so high
I watch thee soaring with no mean delight,
That lags, how far below thy lofty flight,
Not for the joy it were in yon blue light
Upward to plunge, and from my heavenly height Gaze on the creeping multitude below,
But that I soon would wing my eager flight To that loved place where Fancy even now
Has fled, and Hope looks onward thro' a tear, Counting the weary hours that keep her here.
Oh! 'tis a soft änd sorrow-soothing sight,
The mellow moon at evening to behold
And gild the green grove with her yellow golā.
Of his own sorrows, by himself, alone.
In sudden whiz the drowsy beetle's drone. Sweet then to hear the owlet in the dale
Hoot from the hollow of her hallow'd throne, And trace so tranquil in her track of trail, Slow sliding o'er her slime, the slippery sleek slug snail,
Harriot, the smile that plays upon thy check
Whene'er I greet thee, and the thrilling glance
Of those bright orbs, that wakes me from the trance Where reason ponders, to my faint heart speak Love's language ; ardently could I rejoice
In such sweet tokens, but I fear thine eye
Has learnt to beam with love's hypocrisy, And siren wiles dwell in thy tuneful voice. For now with studied eloquence thy tongue
Yields to its task, that tongue which to my sense
Was wont e'erwhile such magic charms dispense, That on thy lips my trembling spirit hung, Waiting new life.-Oh free me from my pain, Speak as of yore, that I may love again. 1795