SONNET*. ADDRESSED TO ANNA SEWARD. BY THE LATE WILLIAM GROVE, ESQ. OF LICHFIELD. 'Tis not that splendid in the rolls of Fame, Thy Muse, O Seward, shines, my sober lays To offer thee their tributary praise Presume; if ought their feeble powers may claim Of fond pretence higher to raise thy name; But that thy cares prolong a Parent's days, Shedding o'er Ages' wintry night the rays Of filial love, to feed Life's glimmering flame. Far as thy verse these humble strains of mine Excels, so far the meed, which Heaven's command Assigns thy worth, exceeds the brightest line Of Glory's page.-Trac'd by a Seraph's hand, Thy name, in characters of light, shall shine, And in the Book of LIFE recorded stand. *The above Sonnet was written in July 1796, and appeared in the Gentleman's Magazine soon after. SONNET. TO THE BUTTERFLY. CHILD of the Vernal Sun! with spangled wing Flits gaily! ah! that I like thee might know 1796. R. A. D. SONNET TO THE DEAD. BY WILLIAM CAREY, ESQ. O THOU, whose form, amid the deepest gloom, When Memory gives to thee my lonely hour? Ah no!-fast buried in eternal * sleep, * The word eternal is used here figuratively to express till the end of time, ONLY, as our best writers use it in an eternal adieu." SONNET. FROM THE LATIN OF BELLAY. THOU deem'st I love thee not! Cleanthe, spare SONNET, FROM PETRARCH. ALONE and pensive, near some desert shore, Where never human footstep mark'd the way. And to the winds alone my griefs impart; While in my hollow cheek, and haggard eye, Appears the fire that burns my inmost heart. But, ah in vain, to distant scenes I go; No solitude my troubled thoughts allays: Methinks e'en things inanimate must know The flame that on my soul in secret preys; While Love, unconquer'd, with resistless sway, Still hovers round my path, still meets me on my way! J. B. T. |