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Now stir the fire; while the drench'd windows

shake,

And, borne on blasts of night, thick sheets of

rain,

With shrill, swift crash burst on each rattling

pane:

At eve's due hour where home-bred comforts

wake,

Where music, books, and social converse

reign,

The scene is dearer for the tempest's sake.

SONNET XXVII.

Sketch of a Mountain Cottage.

12th May, 1803.

YON Cottage sheltered by those aged pines, Whispering with winds that 'mid their branches

sweep,

Like the low murmurs of the distant deep; Yon whiten'd cottage, mantled o'er with vines, Above whose roof the wooded hill inclines, With garden where the earliest snow-drops peep,

Crocus, and violet; where Liburnams weep, And either Lilac, with Syringa, shines. Yon cot, the heart-struck mourner well might seek,

One whom dejection, or misfortunes, chase From cheerful haunts of man; its rustic grace The dignity of better days doth speak,

Nor should the worldling force, in such a place,

The blush of decent pride on grief's pale cheek.

SONNE

SONNET XXVIII.

12th May, 1803.

WHEN first among these mighty hills I came, A wild delirium wakened every sense;

Rocks, hills, woods, waters, lent their influence,

And shapes, and sounds, of more than earthly frame,

Haunted my dreams; the thought of fear or blame

Did never then a deadly chill dispense;

I swiftly caught, unmindful where or whence It sprung, at rapture's vivifying flame. But all is chang'd,-I then pursued the sprite Of airy transport; now I seek the shrine

Of hermit peace; the future then was mine In gaudy colours drest, now reigns thick night On the next hour:-oh, could it only shine, Dreams of past joy, with your reflected light!

SONNET XXIX.

Description of a Spring Hail-storm in a mountainous Country.

13th May, 1803.

AMID those hills, while yet, in clefts, the snow Chills the first breath of spring's salubrious

gale,

Clouds thick, and lowering more and more

prevail,

And moans the pent up tempest dull and low. The clouds advance; the swift blasts, as they

go,

Mountain and scar, and rocking wood assail; Confused murmurs rush athwart the vale, And winter's eddying leaves whirl to and fro. Through slanting hail which scuds along the sky Pale nature gleams in unsubstantial hue,

Th' eternal mountains vanish from the view,Now they burst sudden opening from on high, The fleet-wing'd tempest gather'd and withdrew :

As swift gay sun-beams o'er the landscape fly!

SONNET XXX.

TO SOPHIA.

Written previous to a Journey to a place very distant from that of our residence.

SHALL

27th Nov. 1806.

we again the sacred stilness hail Of this belov'd abode? Shall we again, Withdrawn from all the hum and stir of men, Read in each other's looks the cordial tale Of days of mild esteem ?—the interchange Of kindly offices?—the sacrifice,

Silent and free, of wayward phantasies, That fain would mar a love they could not change? Had it not been for thee, thou generous soul, Whom wrongs of mine could never turn aside, Nor petulance, nor wretchedness, divide; Who, when the black cloud heaviest seem'd to roll,

Didst spread thy faithful arms thy friend to

save

His happiest fate had been the silent grave!

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