SONNET XXXI.

TO SOPHIA.

September 26, 1806.

MAY'ST thou be happy, my beloved friend!
And you, sweet innocents, may ye be blest!
May peace and love from yonder skies descend
And find a home in each unruffled breast!
Oh, could I shroud you in some quiet nest,
Where never sounds of grief or fear offend;
Though still some weight my aching heart op-
press'd,

A glow of triumph with its pangs should blend, But ye, poor babes, must struggle, perhaps must fall,

And thou, best friend, with me mayst bid

farewell

To many a flattering hope! but this is all

In darkness hid; and 'tis not fit to dwell In such a world, on griefs fantastical,

Fitliest unknown! -God grant that all end well!

SONNET XXXII.

TO MISS W-.

On her proposing a Visit to the Family of the

Author.

15th Oct. 1806.

DID Fortune smile propitious on our lot,
Or in our home refinement's magic spell
Detain those graces you have woo'd so well,
Glad should we be to hail you at our cot!
But honest Pride and Truth, that scorn the blot
Of false pretension, urge, tho' loath, to tell
Of thoughts and cares inelegant, that dwell
In mediocrity's most favoured spot.

Then why should we with selfish aim invite
A friend we love, where anxious cares alarm?
Rather tell her with fascination's charm,
To thrid the mazy labyrinth of delight;
Circled by Fancy's rainbow-winged swarm
That live but in the sunbeam of her sight,

SONNET XXXIII.

FROM PETRARCH.

11th Nov. 1806.

SAY, what officious angel bore my grief,
By pity mov'd, to the abodes on high;
That now my Laura hastens from the sky,
With mildest courtesy, to my relief?

She comes to calm my sad and troubled breast,
So full of sweetness, so devoid of pride,
That life, before detested, seems supplied
With consolation, and with thoughts of rest.
Oh, blessed thou, who thus hast power to im-
press

With sweet intelligencing looks and speech; Looks, words, more dear from secret conscious

ness,

That we alone their mystic sense can reach. For, pitying, thou dost condescend to teach That thou refusedst, but the more to bless.

SONNET XXXIV.

18th Jan. 1807.

WHEN friendship turns her long averted face, And sweetly smiles on me again; 'tis hard To wear the look of coldness, nor embrace

The dear and proffer'd blessing of regard. Oh Thou, at whose behest man runs the race Of life, howe'er severe; who bidst him guard His eyes, his senses, and his heart, nor chase In this bleak clime a premature reward; Forgive me, if my thoughts, at times, rebel;

If feeling strongly, I should sometimes pine To make the 'flattering dreams of pleasure mine

And grasp those joys my fancy feigns too well. The ascendant will bends to thy great design Tho' trait'rous wishes throb, and tears of nature swell.

P

SONNET XXXV.

FROM PETRARCH.

31st Jan. 1807.

OH chamber, which, till late, retreat supplied,
From heavy storms that pelted through the day,
Thou seest me now to pining care a prey,
Which from the curious world I fain would hide.
Oh couch, where common griefs are laid aside,
How oft thy shelter did my pangs allay?
Now bath'd with tears, my sighs to thee betray
A cureless passion to despair allied.

Of solitude I am not weary grown:
Myself I fear and my consuming woe,
My tortur'd soul, my insuppressive foe!

And vulgar souls, from whom I long have flown, (Oh, humbling change!) a refuge now bestow, So much I dread to find myself alone.