The face of Poesy: from off her throne She overlook'd things that I scarce could tell, Keep Sleep aloof: but more than that there came SONNETS. I. TO MY BROTHER GEORGE. MANY the wonders I this day have seen: The sun, That fill'd the eyes of Morn;-the laurel'd peers Who from the feathery gold of evening lean ;— The Ocean with its vastness, its blue green, when first he kist away the tears Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears,— Must think on what will be, and what has been. So scantly, that it seems her bridal night, And she her half-discover'd revels keeping. But what, without the social thought of thee, Would be the wonders of the sky and sea? ΤΟ II. HAD I a man's fair form, then might my sighs Sweeter by far than Hybla's honey'd roses III. WRITTEN ON THE DAY THAT MR. LEIGH HUNT LEFT PRISON. WHAT though, for showing truth to flatter'd state, In his immortal spirit, been as free As the sky-searching lark, and as elate. To regions of his own his genius true Took happy flights. Who shall his fame impair When thou art dead, and all thy wretched crew? IV. How many bards gild the lapse of time: Do they occasion; 'tis a pleasing chime. So the unnumber'd sounds that evening store; Make pleasing music, and not wild uproar. |