O! hast thou seen a vernal Morning bright Gem every bank and trembling leaf with dews, Tinging the green fields with her amber hues, Changing the leaden streams to lines of light? Then seen dull Clouds, that shed untimely night, Roll envious on, and every ray suffuse, Till the chill'd Scenes their early beauty lose, And faint, and colourless, no more invite The glistening gaze of Joy?--'Twas emblem just Of my youth's sun, on which deep shadows fell, Spread from the PALL OF FRIENDS; and Grief's loud gust Resistless, oft wou'd wasted tears compel: Yet let me hope, that on my darken'd days Science, and pious Trust, may shed pervading rays. SONNET LXXVIII. Sophia tempts me to her social walls, That 'mid the vast Metropolis arise, Where Splendor dazzles, and each Pleasure vies In soft allurement; and each Science calls To philosophic Domes, harmonious Halls, And [1]storied Galleries. With duteous sighs, Filial and kind, and with averted eyes, I meet the gay temptation, as it falls From a seducing pen.--Here--here I stay, Fix'd by Affection's power; nor entertain One latent wish, that might persuade to stray From my ag'd Nurseling, in his life's dim wane; But, like the needle, by the magnet's sway, My constant, trembling residence maintain. 1: “And storied windows richly dight.”--IL PENSEROSO. SONNET LXXIX. While unsuspecting trust in all that wears Virtue's bright semblance, stimulates my heart To find its dearest pleasures in the part Taken in other's joys; yielding to theirs Its own desires, each latent wish that bears The selfish stamp, O! let me shun the art Taught by smooth Flattery in her courtly mart, Where Simulation's studied smile ensnares! Scorn that exterior varnish for the Mind, Which, while it polishes the _manners_, veils In showy clouds the _soul_.--E'en thus we find Glass, o'er whose surface clear the pencil steals, Grown less transparent, tho' with colours gay, Sheds but the darken'd and ambiguous ray. SONNET LXXX. As lightens the brown Hill to vivid green When juvenescent April's showery Sun Looks on its side, with golden glance, at Noon; So on the gloom of Life's now faded scene Shines the dear image of those days serene, From Memory's consecrated treasures won; The days that rose, ere youth, and years were flown, Soft as the morn of May;--and well I ween If they had clouds, in Time's alembic clear They vanish'd all, and their gay vision glows In brightness unobscur'd; and now they wear A more than pristine sunniness, which throws Those mild reflected lights that soften care, Loss of lov'd Friends, and all the train of Woes. SONNET LXXXI. ON A LOCK OF MISS SARAH SEWARD'S HAIR WHO DIED IN HER TWENTIETH YEAR.