SONNET.—FROM THE ITALIAN.

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BY GIDDINGS H. BALLOU.

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What is it to the fields of heaven

Light hath given,

Radiance glowing, unexpected,

And from soft imbosomed bowers,

And od’rous flowers,

Hath sweet Spring to us directed?

See! by gentle May upholden,

Beech-tree olden

Joyful welcomes springing leaflet;

Spring the flowers of glorious tinting,

Fair imprinting

Meadows kissed by smiling wavelet.

Ah, ’tis Lilla, ever charming,

Soul-disarming,

Gathers flowers, her hair adorning!

Dearest Lilla, dost discover

With thy lover

Spring and Summer now returning?

Flows for thee the tiny river,

Cheerful giver,

Early green and freshness bringing;

Springs for thee the joyous morning,

Heaven adorning,

All the air with praises ringing.

Shepherds, shepherds, to the chorus!

See, before us,

Binds with flowers her hair dark flowing —

While our hearts all homage will her —

Dearest Lilla,

Sing her name with praises glowing!