SONNET. TO A GARDENER, ON HIS SPOILING SOME BEAUTI FUL TREES. CAITIFF! in vain, prescient of bitter woe", And pangs, and shame, which thou art doom'd to feel, Revengeful dost thou raise the ruthless steel, And lay the honours of my garden low! Though never more my ruin'd groves shall know Their former pride; nor Spring their wounds shal♪ heal; Nor birds among them pour their merry peal; Still mocking all thy toil, dark, bare, would stand 1807. R. A. D. "A rogue the gallows as his fate foresees." SONNET. ADDRESSED TO THE LYRE OF COWPER. LYRE of the Bard, who swell'd his lay divine Could draw such strains from thee as once were thine? Still then upon thy native willows hang, While thro' thy chords the murmuring winds complain, For him, who once to thy soft numbers sang, And pour'd with wondrous art his holy strain, Well-skill'd to sooth affliction's bitter pang, ..., Or check the growth of Folly's madd'ning reign! SOBRINO. SONNET. ΤΟ PROUD Pharisee! who oft the midnight oil How little did we deem thy pidus toil, Thy tender care, to teach us maxims sage, Was meant a nation's patience to engage, on! That thou might'st riot safely in her spoil! so Proud Pharisee! the vices of the poor So prompt to scourge with unrelenting rod, 77 How dar'st thou doom them whips and chains to' endure, When THOU the paths of fouler guilt hast trod; How dar'st thou breathe, with lips and heart impure, Proud Pharisee! the sacred name of God! 0 R. A. D. SONNET. TO LORD COCHRANE, COCHRANE! who from the Languedocian coast, Shook through its triple line with deepest dread; "Heir of his spirit; O be thine," she cries, "An equal glory and a longer date"! 1809. R. A. D. A DREAM. BY MR. MCLACHLAN. Lucis habitamus opacis, Riparumque toros, et prata recentia rivis NIGHT o'er the world had spread her sable reign, I saw methought a stately waving wood, Along whose margin pour'd a silver flood; On the green bank Sophronia mourned alone, And pitying rocks re-echo'd moan for moan. At times the tears in copious torrents roll, Her lost Florello rushing on her soul; At times celestial hope her grief allay'd; At times afresh the potent feeling sway'd; At length in christian fortitude resigned, She trusts the wisdom of the Almighty mind, Who makes his favour'd feel the afflicted smart, And wounds the spirit but to cure the heart! |