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SONNET I.

Content, as random Fancies might inspire,
If his weak harp at times or lonely lyre
He struck with desultory hand, and drew

Some softened tones to Nature not untrue.
Bowles.

My heart has thanked thee, Bow LEs for those
soft strains
Whose sadness soothes me, like the murmuring
Of wild-bees in the sunny showers of spring !
For hence not callous to the mourner's pains
Through Youths' gay prime and thornless paths I went:
And when the mightier Throes of mind began,
And drove me forth, a thought-bewildered man!
Their mild and manliest melancholy lent
A mingled charm, such as the pang consigned
To slumber, though the big tear it renewed;
Bidding a strange mysterious PLEAs URE brood
Over the wavy and tumultuous mind,
As the great SPIRIT erst with plastic sweep
Moved on the darkness of the unformed deep.

SONNET II.

As late I lay in slumber's shadowy vale,
With wetted cheek and in a mourner's guise,
I saw the sainted form of Faeedom rise:
She spake not sadder moans the autumnal gale–
“Great Son of Genius I sweet to me thy name,
“Ere in an evil hour with altered voice
“Thou badst Oppression's hireling crew rejoice
“Blasting with wizard spell my laurelled fame.
“Yet never, Bunkel thou drank'st Corruption's bowl
“Thee stormy Pity and the cherished lure
“Of Pomp, and proud Precipitance of soul
“Wildered with meteor fires. Ah Spirit pure
“That error's mist had left thy purged eye:
“So might I clasp thee with a Mother's joy!”

SONNET III.

Though roused by that dark Vizir Riot rude Have driven our PRIESTLY o'er the ocean swell; Though SUPERSTITION and her wolfish brood Bay his mild radiance, impotent and fell; Calm in his halls of Brightness he shall dwell! For lo! RELIGION at his strong behest Starts with mild anger from the Papal spell, And flings to Earth her tinsel-glittering vest, Her mitred state and cumbrous pomp unholy; And Justice wakes to bid the Oppressor wail Insulting aye the wrongs of patient Folly; And from her dark retreat by Wisdom won Meek NATURE slowly lifts her matron veil To smile with fondness on her gazing son!

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SONNET IV.

WHEN British Freedom for an happier land
Spread her broad wings, that fluttered with affright,
ERSKINE 1 thy voice she heard, and paused her flight
Sublime of hope For dreadless thou didst stand
(Thy censer glowing with the hallowed flame)
An hireless Priest before the insulted shrine,
And at her altar pour the stream divine
Of unmatched eloquence. Therefore thy name
Her sons shall venerate, and cheer thy breast
With blessings heaven-ward breathed. And when
the doom
Of Nature bids thee die, beyond the tomb
Thy light shall shine: as sunk beneath the West
Though the great Summer Sun eludes our gaze,
Still burns wide Heaven with his distended blaze.

SONNET V.

It was some Spirit, SHERIDAN : that breathed
O'er thy young mind such wildly various power!
My soul hath marked thee in her shaping hour,
Thy temples with Hymmettian flow'rets wreathed:
And sweet thy voice, as when o'er Laura's bier
Sad music trembled through Vauclusa’s glade;
Sweet, as at dawn the love-lorn Serenade
That wafts soft dreams to Slumber's listening ear.
Now patriot Rage and Indignation high
Swell the full tones! And now thine eye-beams dance
Meanings of Scorn and Wit's quaint revelry |
Writhes inly from the bosom-probing glance
The Apostate by the brainless rout adored,
As erst that elder Fiend beneath great Michael's sword.

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