SONNET

WRITTEN IN A BLANK LEAF OF

AIKIN'S SONGS.

SWEET rival of thine Hannah's numbers! sage
Above the promise of thy sex! whose care
With Virtue and with Wisdom forms our fair
At once to improve and grace the rising age,
If mid these useful toils, that well engage

Thy graver hours, the muse of lighter air
May hope uncensur'd thy regard to share,
Here pleas'd thy hand may turn the' amusive page.
Yet, not too deeply drink her tender tale,
Lest to thy soul her amorous lays impart

The soft infection: Though the' ætherial mail
Of Wisdom arms around thy virgin heart,

Ah! little, even those boasted arms avail,

To' avert the wound when Love directs the dart.

++

SONNET.

To Mr. HAY DRUMMOND,

On Reading his Volume of Poems, entitled

"VERSES SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC."

BY T. PARK, ESQ.

OUR Scotian Petrarch's amatory verse

So long hath made the name of DRUMMOND dear, That oft I've sigh'd, near Esk's meandering course, To place a garland on the poet's bier;

But doubly priz'd by my enamour'd thought
Shall that lov'd name to latest life remain,

Since HAY's pure strains, with hallow'd feeling fraught,
Gave to each throbbing pulse delicious pain:-

And though no mortal hand may hope to twine
The myrtle garland for a widow'd brow ;
The palm of christian piety is thine,

The wreath of amaranth, which saints bestow,
And the high meed that waits the blest above,

Who here have train'd their course by the mild star of

ALL, all is finish'd! From that cross of pain
His last expiring gaze in mercy gleams :-
Rent is the mystic veil of power in twain,
And light in thickest darkness shrouds his beams.

Then bow'd thy sacred head, thou sent of God! Ev'n in its last disgrace, our form to share, Hallowing for evermore that dread abode, Whence Nature shrunk in doubt-or in despair.

Shall mortal homage now,

the might that bow'd

From highest Heaven to Earth, with tears bewail?

Rather let glad Hosannas shout aloud,

Rather let pealing adorations hail

The kingly Victor, who descended here

That trembling penitence no more might fear.

APRIL, 1803.

SONNET.

EASTER.

BY THE SAME.

-His kingdom comes! Reveal'd as now, from high
Shall Faith again behold her Judge return;
When Faith shall worship, with adoring eye,
The blest effulgence of celestial morn.

-Bursting the grave He comes-the First that rosePledge of immortal life to them that sleep!

Pledge of Dominion o'er the last of foes,

"That they who sow in tears, in joy shall reap."

Yes! they shall reap in joy, ev'n now who bear
Life's fitful storm, or wait the king of fears!
-When That transcendant glory stoop'd to wear
Death's icy fetters, whose eternal years

Had seen the advent of created Time?

Shall man reluctant bow, to purchase bliss sublime.

SONNET.

O cruel Love! with what a true delight

Thy fatal fires extinguish'd did I deem;

And hope no more to loath Day's sacred beam, To waste in sleepless anguish the long night,

Or slumbering, start, scar'd by some fearful dream! And sure if memory of keenest wrong

That ever stung to agony the brain,

If bitter thought of all my former pain,

If rival beauties, or if absence long,

Might aught have done, my hope had not been

vain :

Yet vainly I have hop'd! Again I see

The faithless and the fair; my throbbing heart Resigns itself once more a slave to thee;

And feels from short repose severer smart.

1798,

R. A. De