- Sonnet Xxxix. To Night. From The Same.
I LOVE thee, mournful, sober-suited Night!
When the faint moon, yet lingering in her wane,
And veil'd in clouds, with pale uncertain light
Hangs o'er the waters of the restless main.
...
- Sonnet Ix.
BLEST is yon shepherd, on the turf reclined,
Who on the varied clouds which float above
Lies idly gazing--while his vacant mind
Pours out some tale antique of rural love!
...
- Sonnet Lvi.
IF, by his torturing, savage foes untraced,
The breathless captive gain some trackless glade,
Yet hears the war-whoop howl along the waste,
And dreads the reptile-monsters of the shade;
...
- Sonnet Lxxi.
Written at Weymouth in winter.
THE chill waves whiten in the sharp North-east;
Cold, cold the night-blast comes, with sullen sound,
And black and gloomy, like my cheerless breast:
...
- Sonnet Xliii: The Unhappy Exile
The unhappy exile, whom his fates confine
To the bleak coast of some unfriendly isle,
Cold, barren, desart, where no harvests smile,
But thirst and hunger on the rocks repine;
...