SONNET VII. O WHAT a loud and fearful shriek was there, As though a thousand souls one death-groan poured! Ah me! they saw beneath a hireling's sword Bends in such anguish o'er her destined bier, Had gathered in a mystic urn each tear Fit channel found, and she had drained the bowl SONNET VIII. As when far off the warbled strains are heard Life's better sun from that long wintry night, And Slavery's spectres shriek and vanish from the ray! SONNET IX. NOT, Stanhope! with the Patriot's doubtful name Pourest thine Abdiel warnings on the train And thou from forth its clouds shalt hear the voice, * Gallic Liberty. SONNET X. THOU gentle look, that didst my soul beguile, O pleasant days of Hope, for ever gone!— SONNET XI. PALE Roamer through the night! thou poor Remorse that man on his death-bed possess, Betrayed, then cast thee forth to want and scorn! Thy Loves and they that envied thee, deride : |