SONNET X.

How darkly o'er yon far-off mountain frowns

The gather'd tempest! from that lurid cloud

The deep-voiced thunders roll, aweful and loud

Tho’ distant; while upon the misty downs

Fast falls in shadowy streaks the pelting rain.

I never saw so terrible a storm!

Perhaps some way-worn traveller in vain

Wraps his torn raiment round his shivering form

Cold even as Hope within him! I the while

Pause me in sadness tho’ the sunbeams smile

Cheerily round me. Ah that thus my lot

Might be with Peace and Solitude assign'd,

Where I might from some little quiet cot,

Sigh for the crimes and miseries of mankind!