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SONNET. 1814.
Sweeter than cooling springs in Arab's waste, To the poor traveller, fainting as he goes,And sweeter far than nectar to the taste, Or to the smell the fragrance of the rose;Lovelier than aught that in the garden grows, Fairer than lilies bath'd in morning dew;Softer than zephyr when he softest blows, Sporting with halcyon on the billows blue,—So soft, so sweet, so lovely didst thou seem, Enchantress Hope! to charm my youthful view—Yet were thy whispers but a passing dream, A fairy scene that Fancy's pencil drew,Like beauteous frost-work 'neath the solar beam, And fleeting as the drops of morning dew!
HYMN.
E'en in Lapland's land of snow,Lilies spring, and roses blow;E'en on Arab's desert sandShow'rs refresh the thirsty land;
