SONNET.

SWEET is Fame's pæan song, and choral note,
When o'er the grave of one she fondly lov'd,
Caress'd by Virtue, and by Worth approv❜d,
Rich Genius bids her magic music float:
When, shelter'd from the sun, in woodbine bowers,
Sweet to the sylvan and romantic car
The bee's incessant melody to hear,

«* Murmuring her fairy tunes in praise of flowers:" And, sweet th' Eolian harp's enamour'd string, When, by young Zephyr's balmy lip caress'd,

It trills the listless lover's soul to rest:

But, sweeter far than all such strains may bring
Of mingled rapture, is the bliss we prove
Listening the music of the voice we love.

From Dr. D- -'s Vacuna, 5th. vol, Dødsley's Coll.

SONNET.

On reading "Sickness," an Elegy by the late Mr. Headley; Editor of the Beauties of Ancient English Poetry.

BY T. PARK, ESQ.

CHILD of the classic muse! whose generous toil
Hath many a blossom to the rapt sight shown,
Which else had slumber'd mid an adverse soil,

By weeds encumber'd or neglect o'ergrown:
Ah! why from hence hast thou so early flown?.
Could Sickness find no less lamented prey?
Or, like the cygnet's, did thy sad note moan
To melt us with its own funereal lay?——
Yet hapless youth, thy spirit hath not fied
Without the meed of some melodious tear;

*

A bard who lov'd thee living, weeps thee dead, And breathes his soul's warm incense o'er thy bier: For which, when death shall close his dulcet song, May requiems like his own, his kindred fame prolong!

The Rev. W. L. Bowles, late of Trinity-College, Oxford, published an Elegiae poem on the death of Mr, Headley,

SONNET.

ON REVISITING

-ALONE.

THROUGH these dark groves no more the Zephyr

creeps,

The moon's meek ray illumes yon walls no more; But the wild blast, with boisterous fury, sweeps

Through the half-leafless trees, and turrets hoar. Descending fast from many a gloomy cloud,

Driven by the tempest's rage, the drenching rain Beats on the massy pile, whose summit proud

In sullen grandeur frowns upon the plain.
As slowly-wandering o'er the dank, chill ground,
My footsteps press the fallen foliage sere,
Methinks each leaf, with soft but forceful sound,
Bewails the dying beauties of the year.

Ah, fast-expiring year! might I but close
With thy brief date my pilgrimage of woes!

NOV. 1796.

VOL. VI

N

D.

SONNET.

TO A FRIEND ON REVISITING ALONE,

How changed the scene! since that remember'd night,
When, in delightful musings rapt, we stray'd
Through the long lofty grove's o'er-arching-shade,
Soften'd by changeful Dian's pearly light;
Or gar'd upon you pile of giant might,
In robe of mellow tints by time array'd;

And gave a sigh to those in dust low laid,
Who mark'd of years long past the rapid flight.
How chang'd the scene! the blast raves through thé

grove;

The withered foliage drives along the plain;

Fast, from dark gathering clouds, descends the rain. Heedless of angry elements, I rove

And sigh for thee my friend! thy presence dear, Would spread a magic charm around this landscape

drear.

NOV. 1796.

R.

D.

SONNET.

ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND,

A. B. AND CANDIDATE FOR A FELLOWSHIP IN ONE OF THE UNIVERSITIES.

THAT Hood, so late your wish, in monkish beauty Flows from your shoulders now, long, black, and furry.

Were you but Fellow then!-Yet why this hurry? Before you stand, read this, and learn your duty. Learn, if untufted Wit, and Worth salute

Sin

ye,

To frown importance, while they cap and sir ye;
With titled Vice and Folly favour curry,
Nor blush, if ill your awkward flattery suit ye:
you; but tolerate no younger sinner:

Teach them to rise, be sober and grow clever;
Snore you till noon, and every night be mellow':
Pray seldom; then be last; be first at dinner:

Walk, ride, and dress; read sometimes; study-never. This will you swear? Enough: admit him Fellow.

tt.