This page needs to be proofread.
SONNRTS. 321 .XXVIL FAlhI(?Y. O FANCY, when a'child, too rashly bold, I found thee c0il'd amid the lonely shade, And took thee.fo? my chaplet, as 'tls told Forth from her cottage stole an Indian Maid, And, as she wander'd down the sunny glade, Espied a snake, in hues of green and gold, � And glittering pSnoply of light array'd. Poor innocent ! the shining death she rol!'d Round her'smooth brow in many a wanton .braid, The dark reduadance of her locks to hold, And of the passing stream a mirror made, To view, and vary every sportive fold. But, ah, in anguish now she shrieks dismay'd, Death--Death thro' every vein glides uncontroli'd !
�
