Volume 3 — SONNET C. WRITTEN DECEMBER 1790.

Lyre of the Sonnet, that full many a time Amus’d my lassitude, and sooth’d my pains, When graver cares forbade the lengthen’d strains, To thy brief bound, and oft-returning chime A long farewell!—the splendid forms of rhyme When grief in lonely orphanism reigns, Oppress the drooping soul.—Death’s dark domains Throw mournful shadows o’er the Æonian clime; For in their silent bourne my filial bands Lie all dissolv’d;—and swiftly-wasting pour From my frail glass of life, health’s sparkling sands. Sleep then, my Lyre, thy tuneful tasks are o’er; Sleep! for my heart bereav’d, and listless hands, Wake with rapt touch thy glowing strings no more!