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Of a peculiar sort,

a consummation;

Which, had I felt, these scribblings might have

been

Verses from which the soul would never ween;
But many days have past since last my heart
Was warm'd luxuriously by divine Mozart;
By Arne delighted, or by Handel madden'd;
Or by the song of Erin pierced and sadden'd:
What time you were before the music sitting,
And the rich notes to each sensation fitting.
Since I have walk'd with you through shady lanes
That freshly terminate in open plains,

And revell'd in a chat that ceased not,
When, at night-fall, among your books we got:
No, nor when supper came, nor after that,
Nor when reluctantly I took my hat;
No, nor till cordially you shook my hand
Mid-way between our homes: - your accents

bland

Still sounded in my ears, when I no more

Could hear your footsteps touch the gravelly floor.
Sometimes I lost them, and then found again;
You changed the foot-path for the grassy plain.
In those still moments I have wish'd you joys
That well you know to honour:
"Life's very toys
With him," said I, " will take a pleasant charm;
It cannot be that aught will work him harm."
These thoughts now come o'er me with all their
might:-

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Again I shake your hand, friend Charles, good night.

September, 1816.

SONNETS.

PESCA.SC.

SONNETS.

I.

TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME SOME ROSES.

A

S late I rambled in the happy fields,

What time the skylark shakes the tremulous dew

From his lush clover covert; when anew Adventurous knights take up their dinted shields; I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields,

A fresh-blown musk-rose; 'twas the first that threw

Its sweets upon the summer: graceful it grew
As is the wand that queen Titania wields.
And, as I feasted on its fragrancy,

I thought the garden-rose it far excell❜d;
But when, O Wells! thy roses came to me,
My sense with their deliciousness was spell'd:
Soft voices had they, that with tender plea
Whisper'd of peace, and truth, and friendliness
unquell'd.

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