Or the spires, that high-bosom'd in trees "Reflect the slope sun's golden ray, "Have yet aught of beauty to please; "O haste, to my banks haste away. "Say, where smile the meadows more green? "Where does Philomel warble more sweet? "What stream rolls more pure thro' a scene, "Where Spring's various treasures so meet? "O say, what can Avon compare "To the towers, that crown my proud side! "Or when did the muses sport there? "When deign'd Phoebus to bathe in his tide? "Erewhile thou to Phœbus wast dear, "Thy pipe echoing shrill through my plains. "Go, Corydon, throw that pipe down, "Thy lips now no longer it breathes; "Go, Corydon, pluck off that crown; "Those laurels ill brook pleasure's wreaths." Oh Isis! thy taunts are in vain ; Far other cares tear my sad heart! If wherever I roll them around Bosom'd high in tufted trees. MILTON ↑ wyeísi ra oà xelλea. Mosch: Ep: Bion: SONNET. BY JOHN LEYDEN, M. D. * ALAS! that Fancy's pencil still pourtrays By contrast vain impairs our present joys; * Author of "Scenes of Infancy" a poem, descriptive of Teviot-dale. I lov'd to see the oak majestic tower; Whose still green leaves in solemn silence wave They rest in peace beneath thy sacred gloom: No leaves but thine in pity o'er them sigh. Lo! now to Fancy's gaze thou seem'st to spread Thy shadowy boughs to shroud me with the dead. SONNET. Written on the breaking out of the War between Austria and France. THRICE foil'd, once more, O Austria! to the plain No midway path between disgrace and fame: R. A. DAVENPORT, SONNET. On the Fall of Saragossa, PROUD Conqueror! though o'er the ruin'd wall To those bright palms that shade the slaughter'd brave. History their patriot valour shall record; And Freedom, bending o'er their sacred tomb, With grateful tears their noble toils reward: While thou, descending to the infernal gloom, To meet the tyrant's and the murderer's doom, Shalt leave a name by earth and heaven abhorr'd! 1809. R. A. P. |