Shall drench again or discompose, But, screen'd from ev'ry storm that blows, It boasts a splendour ever new, Safe with protecting Montague. To the same patroness resort, Secure of favour at her court, Strong Genius, from whose forge of thought Wild roses over furrow'd ground, Which Labour of his frown beguile, And teach Philosophy a smile Wit flashing on Religion's side, Well-tutor'd Learning, from his books, Dismiss'd with grave, not haughty looks, Their order on his shelves exact Not more harmonious or compact Than that to which he keeps confin'd The various treasures of his mind All these to Montague's repair, Ambitious of a shelter there. There Genius, Learning, Fancy, Wit, Their ruffled plumage calm refit, She thus maintains divided sway Both poet saves and plume from fading. SONNET ADDRESSED TO HENRY COWPER, ESQ. On his emphatical and interesting delivery of the Defence of COWPER, whose silver voice, task'd sometimes hard, (Attentive when thou read'st) of England's Peers, Let verse at length yield thee thy just reward. Thou wast not heard with drowsy disregard, Expending late on all that length of plea Thou art not voice alone, but hast beside Both heart and head; and couldst with music sweet Of attic phrase and senatorial tone, Like thy renown'd Forefathers, far and wide Thy fame diffuse, prais'd not for utt'rance meet Of others' speech, but magic of thy own. THE MORNING DREAM. 'Twas in the glad season of spring, I dream'd what I cannot but sing, I dream'd that on ocean afloat, Far hence to the westward I sail'd, While the billows high-lifted the boat, In the steerage a woman I saw, Such at least was the form that she wore, Whose beauty impress'd me with awe, Ne'er taught me by woman before. She sat, and a shield at her side Shed light like a sun on the waves, And smiling divinely, she cry'd -I go to make Freemen of Slaves. Then raising her voice to a strain The sweetest that ear ever heard,' She sung of the slave's broken chain Some clouds which had over us hung Thus swiftly dividing the flood, To a slave-cultur'd island we came, Where a Demon, her enemy, stoodOppression his terrible name. In his hand, as the sign of his sway, From Africa's sorrowful shore. But soon as approaching the land That goddess-like woman he view'd, |