This page needs to be proofread.
.8ONNET?. 32? TO THE 'NIGHTIN. GALE.' O ?mttVXSOA?-g, they do swe?et Nature wrong, Who say that Grief inspires thy nightly?st?.ain; When did she teach her children to complain ? No, 'fis 'exuberant rapture swells thy song, Yet holier rapture, than the madden'd throng Dares by the name of happiness profane. Itemruing from thy lonely sylvan reign, Now, as I page the midnight streets along, I hear the noisy shout of ebriate mirth, And there/s sadness in .that maniac sound, Like ideot laughter in Death's hollow throat.' Oh, it is Man alone untuues the earth, And seems a jarring, and, discordant note, Where all is peaceful harmouy?around ! ......... ?Google
�
