SONNET. BY THE SAME. STILL on my soul that awful hour shall rise, When, bounding home from the red-blossom'd heath, Full in my view the corpse-like form of death First burst in horror on mine infant eyes: The sheeted bed of melancholy white, The death-watch, and the dog's long dreary howl, The ghostly terror lest the parted soul Should glide before the shuddering watch at night; The sable bier, the wailing female cry When slow the sad procession mov'd away I well remember,-and for many a day I mus❜d, and hop'd that I should never die. Vain hope! for death, since that tremendous hour, Has been the canker-worm of pleasure's flower. SONNET. TO MILFORD HAVEN. ON LANDING AFTER A SEVERE TEMPEST, 1792. BY EYLES IRWIN, ESQ. FAM'D haven! whose capacious arms embrace Sore rock'd by BOREAS' breath, and NEPTUNE's tide; Thy banks-if aught enrich'd by SHAKSPEARE'S strain, The melting scene of IMOGEN's distress, Were subject meet for minstrel voice profane, For thy still bosom chang'd the stormy wave- Fill all thy winding ports, and ride the ATLANTIC surge! SONNET. ON READING THE POEMS OF A GIRL OF THIRTEEN, 1810. BY THE SAME. WITH anxious thought the parent eyes his child, Who mark'd to fame her youthful genius soar, Mid coral caves the pearl, unheeded, lies; And claims the homage of admiring eyes: SONNET. On reading the Poems of Hurdis, after a perusal of Sir Joshua Reynolds's Academic Discourse on Gainsbrough. BY T. PARK, ESQ. MUCH of thy semblance, CowPER, do we trace, Of orbs that still may shine for numerous years; SONNET. TO THE SWALLOW. BY MR. J. M. LACY. HAIL, gentle swallow, hail! when you appear To watch thy sweeping course above the wave, You wing your way to lands unknown to gloom, |