SONNET III.* SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN ADDRESSED BY A LADY, thou weepest for the Maniac's woe, The pangs with which my wretched heart is wrung. I had a mother once-a brother too (Beneath yon yew my father rests his head :) SONNET IV. SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY THE UNHAPPY POET DERMODY, IN A STORM, WHILE ON BOARD A SHIP Lo! o'er the welkin the tempestuous clouds *This Quatorzain had its rise from an elegant sonnet," occasioned by seeing a young female lunatic," written by Mrs. Lofft, and published in the Monthly Mirror. I, on the deck, musing on themes forlorn, View the drear tempest, and the yawning deep. Nought dreading in the green sea's caves to sleep, For not for me shall wife or children mourn, And the wild winds will ring my funeral knell Sweetly, as solemn peal of pious passing-bell. SONNET V. THE WINTER TRAVELLER. GOD help thee, Traveller, on thy journey far; Of spirits howling on their stormy car, A dismal night-and on my wakeful bed SONNET VI. BY CAPEL LOFFT, ESQ. This sonnet was addressed to the author of this volume, and was occasioned by several little Quatorzains, misnomered Sonnets, which he published in the Monthly Mirror. He begs leave to return his thanks to the much respected writer, for the permission so politely granted to insert it here, and for the good opinion he has been pleased to express of his productions. YE, whose aspirings court the muse of lays, Severest of those orders which belong, Distinct and separate, to Delphic song,' Why shun the Sonnet's undulating maze? And why its name, boast of Petrarchian days, Assume, its rules disown'd? whom from the throng The muse selects, their ear the charm obeys Of its full harmony-they fear to wrong The Sonnet, by adorning with a name Of that distinguish'd import, lays, though sweet, Of that so varied and peculiar frame. sways. SONNET VII. RECANTATORY, IN REPLY TO THE FOREGOING LET the sublimer muse, who wrapt in night, Who wake the wood-nymphs from the forest shade With wildest song ;-Me, much behoves thy aid Of mingled melody, to grace my strain, And give it power to please, as soft it flows Through the smooth murmurs of thy frequent close. SONNET VIII. ON HEARING THE SOUNDS OF AN EOLIAN HARP. So ravishingly soft upon the tide Of the infuriate gust, it did career, It might have sooth'd its rugged charioteer, And sunk him to a zephyr ;-then it died, Melting in melody ;-and I descried, Borne to some wizard stream, the form appear Pour'd his lone song, to which the surge replied: SONNET IX. WHAT art thou, MIGHTY ONE? and where thy seat ! noon, Or on the red wing of the fierce Monsoon, Dost thou repose? or in the solitude Hears nightly howl the tiger's hungry brood? Vain thought! the confines of his throne to trace, Who glows through all the fields of boundless space. A BALLAD. BE hush'd, be hush'd, ye bitter winds, Lie still, le still, ye busy thoughts, That wring with grief my aching breast. Oh! cruel was my faithless love, To triumph o'er an artless maid; To leave the breast by him betray'd. When exiled from my native home, He should have wiped the bitter tear; My child moans sadly in my arms, The winds they will not let it sleep: Ah! little knows the hapless babe What makes its wretched mother weep. Now lie thee still, my infant dear, Harsh is thy father, little one, And never will he shelter thee. O, that I were but in my grave, And winds were piping o'er me loud, THE LULLABY OF A FEMALE CONVICT TO HER CHILD, THE NIGHT SLEEP baby mine,* enkerchieft on my bosom, Sir Philip Sidney has a poem beginning, 'Sleep Baby mine.' |