SONNET II. TO SCOTLAND. 1796. SCOTLAND! when thinking on each heathy hill, O'er whose bleak breast the billowy vapours sweep, While sullen winds imprisoned murmur deep 'Mid their dim caves, such thoughts my bosom fill, I cannot chuse but sigh! Oft wandering wild I've traced thy torrents to their haunted source, Whence down some huge rock with fantastic course, Their sheeted whiteness pouring, they beguiled The meek disheartened One, in solitude Who sought relief. Beneath some aged tree Thy white cots dimly seen yielded to me Solace most sweet: nor seldom have I viewed Their low thatch wishfully, and paused to bless The uncultur'd children of lone quietness. SONNET III. TO NOVEMBER. 1796. DISMAL November! me it sooths to view, From the wet fruit tree; or the grey stone wall, Whose cold films glisten with unwholesome dew. To watch the yellow mists from the dank earth Enfold the neighbouring copse; while, as they pass, The silent rain-drops bend the long rank grass, Which wraps some blossom's unmatured birth. And through my cot's lone lattice glimmering grey Thy damp, chill evenings have a charm for me, Dismal November! for strange vacancy Summoneth then my very heart away! "Till from mist-hidden spire comes the slow knell, And says, that in the still air Death doth dwell! N SONNET IV. 1796. I HAD been sad, and drooped like one forlorn, When, as it might befall, I threw mine eye Athwart the sunny plain; a breeze past by Pure and inspiriting, as newly born, The viewless messenger of some far glen! It breathed, methought, faint tones of distant peace! Sighing, I turned me from the haunts of men, And bodied forth some dell, where care might cease. I gazed, (a lone tear stealing down my cheek), And wished that I knew one whom I might throw Mine arms around, and snatching her from woe, Yield her my heart; and in some simple cell Where I might win the solace of the meek, Pray for the hard world, where I once did dwell! SONNET V. 1796. WHEN witching evening wore her shadows dim, Those big-swoln broodings oft I sought to wake, Which made my lone heart fancifully ache; And wayward tears unnoticed still would swim, Filling each idle orb!" And I have loved This mystic transport; me the wildering hour Soothed; and dim vested Silence seemed to pour Balm, such as might befit a wretch that roved, Sicklied with thought. Nor was not this my lot! Now was I mazed with strange perplexities, And now to my tranced sprite such dreams would rise, That when I waked, I wept "to find them not!" Wept that stern reason chased with blasting eye The feverish mind's fantastic imagery. SONNET VI. 1796. "TWERE well, methinks, in an indignant mood, When the heart droops unfriended, when mankind, With their cold smiles, have duped thy honest mind, On the wet heath to stray, while dimly brood The gathered grey-mists on the distant hill: Drear should the prospect be, dreary and wide, No second living one be there espied, None save thyself; then would thy soul be still, Curbing its sorrows with a proud despair! Then wouldst thou tread thy path with firmer pace, Nor let one scowl on thy resolved face But, soothed to think that solitude can bless, |