SONNETS.

PART SECOND.

Part Second.

SONNET XVIII.

As one who, long by wasting sickness worn,

Weary has watch'd the ling'ring night, and heard
Heartless the carol of the matin bird

Salute his lonely porch, now first at morn
Goes forth, leaving his melancholy bed;

He the green slope and level meadow views,
Delightful bath'd with slow-ascending dews;
Or marks the clouds, that o'er the mountain's head
In varying forms fantastick wander white;

Or turns his ear to every random song,

Heard the green river's winding marge along, The whilst each sense is steep'd in still delight. With such delight, o'er all my heart I feel,

Sweet Hope! thy fragrance pure and healing incense steal.

SONNET XIX.

OCTOBER 1792.

Go then, and join the roaring city's throng!
Me thou dost leave to solitude and tears,
To busy phantasies, and boding fears,
Lest ill betide thee: but 'twill not be long,
And the hard season shall be past: till then

Live happy; sometimes the forsaken shade Rememb'ring, and these trees now left to fade; Nor, 'mid the busy scenes and "hum of men," Wilt thou my cares forget: in heaviness

To me the hours shall roll, weary and slow, Till mournful autumn past, and all the snow Of winter pale! the glad hour I shall bless, That shall restore thee from the crowd again, To the green hamlet in the peaceful plain.