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SONNET.

ADMONITION,

(Intended more particularly for the Perusal of those who may have happened to be enamoured of some beautiful Place of Retreat, in. the Country of the Lakes.).

Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye!`
-The lovely Cottage in the guardian nook
Hath stirr'd thee deeply; with its own dear brook,
Its own small pasture, almost its own sky!
But covet not th' Abode-oh! do not sigh,
As many do, repining-while they look,.
Sighing a wish to tear from Nature's Book

This blissful leaf, with worst impiety.

Think what the home would be if it were thine,

Even thine, though few thy wants!-Roof, window, door,

The very flowers are sacred to the Poor,

The roses to the porch which they entwine:

Yea, all, that now enchants thee, from the day

On which it should be touch'd, would melt, and melt away!

SONNET.

66

“ gives to airy nothing

A local habitation and a name."

Though narrow be that Old Man's cares, and near,

The poor Old Man is greater than he seems :
For he hath waking empire, wide as dreams;
An ample sovereignty of eye and ear.

Rich are his walks with supernatural chear;
The region of his inner spirit teems

With vital sounds, and monitory gleams.
Of high astonishment and pleasing fear.

He the seven birds hath seen that never part,

Seen the SEVEN WHISTLERS in their nightly rounds,

And counted them: and oftentimes will start-
For overhead are sweeping GABRIEL'S HOUNDS,
Doom'd, with their impious Lord, the flying Hart,
To chase for ever, on aërial grounds.

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High deeds, O Germans, are to come from you!
Thus in your Books the record shall be found,
"A Watchword was pronounced, a potent sound,
ARMINIUS!-all the people quaked like dew

Stirr'd by the breeze-they rose, a Nation, true,
True to itself the mighty Germany,

She of the Danube and the Northern sea,

She rose,—and off at once the yoke she threw.
All power was given her in the dreadful trance-
Those new-born Kings she wither'd like a flame.”
-Woe to them all! but heaviest woe and shame

To that Bavarian, who did first advance

His banner in accursed league with France,

First open Traitor to her sacred name!

SONNET,

TO THOMAS CLARKSON,

On the final pas-ing of the Bill for the Abolition of the Slave Trade, March, 1807.

Clarkson! it was an obstinate Hill to climb;
How toilsome, nay how dire it was, by Thee
Is known, by none, perhaps, so feelingly;
But Thou, who, starting in thy fervent prime,
Didst first lead forth this pilgrimage sublime,
Hast heard the constant Voice its charge repeat,
Which, out of thy young heart's oracular seat,
First roused thee. O true yoke-fellow of Time
With unabating effort, see, the palm

Is won, and by all Nations shall be worn!
The bloody Writing is for ever torn,

And Thou henceforth shalt have a good Man's calm,
A great Man's happiness; thy zeal shall find
Repose at length,. firm Friend of human kind!

Once in a lonely Hamlet I sojourn'd

In which a Lady driv'n from France did dwell; The big and lesser griefs, with which she mourn'd, In friendship she to me would often tell.

This Lady, dwelling upon English ground,
Where she was childless, daily did repair
To a poor neighbouring Cottage; as I found,
For sake of a young Child whose home was there.

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