SONNET VIII.

With many a weary step, at length I gain

Thy summit, Lansdown; and the cool breeze plays,

Gratefully round my brow, as hence the gaze

Returns to dwell upon the journeyed plain.

‘ Twas a long way and tedious! to the eye

Tho fair the extended vale, and fair to view

The falling leaves of many a faded hue,

That eddy in the wild gust moaning by.

Even so it fared with Life! in discontent

Restless thro’ Fortune's mingled scenes I went,

Yet wept to think they would return no more!

But cease fond heart in such sad thoughts to roam,

For surely thou ere long shall reach thy home,

And pleasant is the way that lies before.