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SIX SONNETS,

Translated from Petrarch.

BY THE ARCHDEACON WRANGHAM.

I.

ALONE and pensive, o'er each desert scene
With slow and melancholy step I stray;

Nor seeks my glance aught further to survey,
Save where no human foot has ever been.
My hapless state thus only can I screen
From curious eyes, that throng the public way :
For, ah! too well my gaiety's decay

Betrays without, the fire that burns within.

And here each torrent stream, each devious mead-
Wildly I deem-each mount, each forest knows
My life's keen anguish, hid from her alone!
Yet track so rough, so wild, I never tread,
But Love, companion of my wanderings goes—
Expostulating still, as still he hears me moan.

II.

Deemed I that death could banish from my breast The lovelorn thought that holds me chained below, These hands ere this had dealt the mortal blow, And eased of all their load my limbs unblest.

But since such change, I fear, by Heaven s behest
Would pang for pang, and war for war bestow;
Midway across the interval I go,

Which parts me from that state, and midway rest.
Yet sure 'twere time the last keen shaft were sped
From that unpitying, bow, whose arrowy store
(Bathed in the heart) with life's rich stream are red!
Love I in vain, and Death's deaf ear implore.
With his own hues Death tinged my cheek, and fled;
Nor thinks how fain my foot would press his peaceful
shore.

III

Ah! beauteous Freedom, how dost thou reveal,-
Thus, thus divorced from me, my blessed lot,
When that first shaft, from Beauty's quiver shot,
Planted the wound that time shall never heal!
There did mine eyes so of their anguish feel
Enamoured, reason's curb availed not;
Nor earthly circumstance they valued aught,
By me inured to cherish woe for weal.
Vainly I strive to listen, save when she,

My doom, the theme: the air with her sweet name
Thrills every where no softer sound can be:
Here only Love's keen goadings harass me;
This my sole track: nor knows my hand to frame
For other lady's brow the wreath of minstrelsy.

IV.

O spot! to me beyond all other fair,

Where Love's light form that gentle footstep stayed,
And bent on me those pure eyes I surveyed,

Which shed a balmy stillness o'er the air!
Sooner might time, impatient to impair,

With crumbling touch the diamond's block invade,
Than from my view that gracious vision fade,
Which graved by memory on my heart I bear :
Nor shall I ever pass thee, often seen,

But I will bow myself the mark to trace,
Where that dear foot such courtesy displayed;

And should dread Love within his breast have place,
By my Sennuccio, when he treads the green,

Be shed some few fond tears, one tender sigh be paid!

V.

When in the tone Love lends his votaries

I hear your gentle accents, with delight,

So does my kindled passion sparkle bright,

That thence the extinct might draw new life's supplies.
Then present is that loved one to mine eyes,
As erst all sweet and calm she met my sight,
In garb which needs no bell of matin-rite
To rouse me, wakened by my echoing sighs.

Light to the breeze I see her tresses flung,
Her neck reflected, and her smile serene-
See in my heart, of which she holds the key:
But so the transport trembles on my tongue,
That, where she sits majestical within,

I do not dare pourtray-how fair, how glorious she.

VI.

Ne'er viewed I Phœbus in such glory rise,
When not a cloud obscured the blue serene;
Nor e'er in sunniest shower heaven's bow was seen
With hues so glittering bright to span the skies;
As when I first beheld those radiant eyes;
Was poured to my dismay their fatal sheen;
Unrivalled they in Love's encounter keen-
But my weak lyre to him her praise denies.
Love I observed, and felt so deep the glow
His tender glance awoke, that all beside
Is to my fervid fancy dim and cold:

-Yes;
well I watched him, with his bended bow,
Sennuccio, though on me 'twas to be tried-

And madly would again the perilous sight behold.

Y

STANZAS FOR MUSIC.

BY WILLIAM READ, ESQ.

THE Infant at its mother's breast

Will reach to grasp the stars above

So I, alas! have lost my rest

By aiming at ambitious love.

I saw thee, and my peace was gone, 'Mid orbs that beamed till you drew nigh;

And madly set my heart upon

The brightest star in beauty's sky.

And oft, and oft, with visions rife,
This heart hath fondly hoped secure
To steer through all the storms of life,
When you should be its cynosure!

But vain were hopes, and vain was love,-
A wanderer on a troubled sea,

For me no planet glows above,
No haven smiles on earth for me!

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