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SONNET.

WHENE'ER, among the comrades of the dame, Bright Love approaches in her beauteous mien, As much as each beneath her charms are seen, Swells my desire, and grows the excited flame. The place, and hour, when Excellence first came To lift my view, recall'd, I bless the scene; And say, "my soul, that such thy boast has been, "To the kind gods unmeasured thanks proclaim. "From her the love-created Fancies spring, "That point to Heaven's perfection, and calm joy; "Not to the unworthy cares that man employ: "From her derived, do the pure raptures buoy "Thy thought, and lift thee to the immortal ring; "Which yet I seek, on Hope's aspiring wing."

SESTINA.*

To every animal that dwells on earth,
Unless those few that dread the blazing sun,
Fate has allotted, for their toil, the day;

But, when the heavens are lighted by the stars,
Some hie to sheds for shelter, some to woods,
There to enjoy their wish'd repose till morn.

And I, as soon as I behold the morn

Dispersing round the dews and shades o'er earth,
And calling forth the beasts from all the woods,
Perceive no cheerful influence in the sun;
Then, when I flaming see the nightly stars,
I only weep, and languish for the day.

*The lines of the Sestina terminate, in every stanza, in the same words, of two syllables; but, from the structure of an Italian verse, those words seem properly rendered by a monosyllable in English.

When dusky evening then succeeds the day,
Within this land, and makes another's morn,
Pensive I gaze at the relentless stars,

That fashion'd me from much too feeling earth;
And curse the day I first beheld the sun,
By which I seem a savage in the woods.

I truly think no beast has, in the woods,
Appear'd so terrible by night or day,
As she I sigh for, where'er shines the sun;
Nor do I pause for evening, or for morn;
For though I am a mortal piece of earth,
The strong desire I feel is from the stars.

Before I may ascend to you, bright stars,
Or seek below the lover's myrtle woods,
Leaving my body, then but mouldering earth,
May I obtain her pity! Joy, one day,
Will balance years of pain, and ere the morn,
Content, announced me by the setting sun.

With her first witness'd by the setting sun,

Might I remain, and only see the stars

During one night, and might it ne'er be morn;
Nor might she, to that honour of the woods
Transform'd, escape my love, as on that day,
When Phoebus follow'd her below on earth.

But deep in earth, my coffin from the woods
Brought, I should lie, and day exhibit stars,
Ere such a glorious morn display the sun.

SONNET

ON SENDING TO A FRIEND A PAIR OF PIGEONS,

WHICH, BEING THEN FREQUENTLY EMPLOY

ED IN FIELD SPORTS, HE HAD CAUGHT WITH

NETS.

FREE, at the foot of that well-peopled hill,*
On which the unrivall'd beauty had been born,
Ere him who sends us, captive and forlorn,

* Where Avignon was situated.

She troubled, waking oft, and weeping still,
We pass'd our lives, and wing'd the air at will;
Nor less had any creature cause to scorn,
Its fate, nor any sign appear'd, to warn
Us, thoughtless wretches, of approaching ill.
But, after those enjoyments we possess❜d,
Yet, at the rueful pass we have attain'd,
Awaiting Death, we still on Hope can rest:
By the sweet prospect of revenge sustain'd,
We see our captor pining too, oppress'd
By Love, and by more fearful fetters chain'd.

SONNET

TRAVELLING THROUGH THE FOREST OF

ARDEN.

THROUGH this inhospitable, shaggy wild,
Even terrible to those begirt with arms,

I pass securely, whom my Sun alarms

Alone, Love's dreaded influence beaming mild:

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