CHARLOTTE SMITH. SONNET. QUEEN of the silver bow, by thy pale beam Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast; That in thy orb the wretched may have rest ; The sufferers of the earth perhaps may go, Released by death, to thy benignant sphere; And the sad children of despair and wo, Forget, in thee, their cup of sorrow here. SOUTHEY. MOONLIGHT. How calmly gliding through the dark-blue sky, The midnight moon ascends! Her placid beams Through thinly scattered leaves and boughs grotesque; Mottle with mazy shades the orchard slope; Here, o'er the chesnut's fretted foliage gray, And massy, motionless they spread; here shine Upon the crags, deepening with blacker night Their chasms; and there the glittering argentry Ripples and glances on the confluent streams A lovelier, purer light than that of day Rests on the hills; and oh how awfully Into that deep and tranquil firmament, The summits of Auseva rise serene! The watchman on the battlements partakes The stillness of the solemn hour; he feels Of yonder sapphire infinite, are seen, Draw on with elevating influence Toward eternity the attempered mind. Musing on worlds beyond the grave he stands, Breathes forth her hymn of praise PELAYO MADE KING. Alone, advanced Before the ranks, the Goth in silence stood, Of waters warbling near. Son of a race Of Heroes and of Kings! The Primate thus Addressed him, Thou in whom the Gothic blood, Mingling with old Iberia's, has restored To Spain a ruler of her native line, Stand forth, and in the face of God and man Against the accursed nation that usurps So speak of me Lord God of Hosts, Urban pursued, of Angels and of Men Ruler of Earth and Heaven,-Look down this day His hope, his joy, his refuge, and his strength! Of thine omnipotence ;-send in his aid He may endure and triumph! Bless the land Of earth, its wealth and fulness! Then he took Pelayo's hand, and on his finger placed For weal or wo thou takest her, till death MEDITATION. Soothed by the strain Of such discourse, Julian was silent then, And sate contemplating. Florinda too Was calmed. If sore experience may be thought To teach the uses of adversity, She said, alas! who better learned than I In that sad school! Methinks if ye would know How visitations of calamity Affect the pious soul, 'tis shown ye there! |