various florets look'd less gay
When kiss'd by bright Italia's ardent sun,
Than now their hues expand in Albion's milder ray!

H. F. CAREY.

1: Anacreon.

SONNETS.

SONNET I.

When Life's realities the Soul perceives
Vain, dull, perchance corrosive, if she glows
With rising energy, and open throws
The golden gates of Genius, she achieves
His fairy clime delighted, and receives
In those gay paths, deck'd with the thornless rose,
Blest compensation.--Lo! with alter'd brows
Lours the false World, and the fine Spirit grieves;
No more young Hope tints with her light and bloom
The darkening Scene.--Then to ourselves we say,
Come, bright IMAGINATION, come! relume
Thy orient lamp; with recompensing ray
Shine on the Mind, and pierce its gathering gloom
With all the fires of intellectual Day!

SONNET II.

The Future, and its gifts, alone we prize,
Few joys the Present brings, and those alloy'd;
Th' expected fulness leaves an aching void;
But HOPE stands by, and lifts her sunny eyes
That gild the days to come.--She still relies
The Phantom HAPPINESS not thus shall glide
_Always_ from life.--Alas!--yet ill betide
Austere Experience, when she coldly tries
In distant roses to discern the thorn!
Ah! is it wise to anticipate our pain?
_Arriv'd_, it then is soon enough to mourn.
Nor call the dear Consoler false and vain,
When yet again, shining through april-tears,
Those fair enlight'ning eyes beam on advancing Years.

SONNET III.

WRITTEN AT BUXTON IN A RAINY SEASON.

From these wild heights, where oft the mists descend
In rains, that shroud the sun, and chill the gale,
Each transient, gleaming interval we hail,
And rove the naked vallies, and extend
Our gaze around, where yon vast mountains blend
With billowy clouds, that o'er their summits sail;
Pondering, how little Nature's charms befriend
The barren scene, monotonous, and pale.
Yet solemn when the darkening shadows fleet
Successive o'er the wide and silent hills,
Gilded by watry sun-beams, then we meet
Peculiar pomp of vision. Fancy thrills,
And owns there is no scene so rude and bare,
But Nature sheds or grace or grandeur there.

SONNET IV.

TO
HONORA SNEYD[1],
WHOSE HEALTH WAS ALWAYS BEST IN WINTER.

And now the youthful, gay, capricious Spring,
Pier