Volume 3 — SONNET LI. TO SYLVIA, ON HER APPROACHING NUPTIALS.

Hope comes to Youth, gliding thro’ azure skies With amaranth crown:—her full robe, snowy white, Floats on the gale, and our exulting sight Marks it afar.—From waning life she flies, Wrapt in a mist, covering her starry eyes With her fair hand.—But now, in floods of light, She meets thee, Sylvia, and with glances, bright As lucid streams, when Spring’s clear mornings rise. From Hymen’s kindling torch, a yellow ray The shining texture of her spotless vest Gilds;—and the month that gives the early day The scent odorous, and the carol blest,[85] Pride of the rising year, enamour’d May, Paints its redundant folds with florets gay.