SONNET TO THE RIVER ARUN.

Pure Stream! whose waters gently glide along,

In murmuring cadence to the Poet’s ear,

Who, stretch’d at ease your flowery banks among,

Views with delight your glassy surface clear,

Roll pleasing on through Otways sainted wood;

Where “musing Pity” still delights to mourn,

And kiss the spot where oft her votary stood,

Or hang fresh cypress o’er his weeping urn;—

Here, too, retir’d from Folly’s scenes afar,

His powerful shell first studious Collins strung;

Whilst Fancy, seated in her rainbow car,

Round him her flowers Parnassian wildly flung.

Stream of the Bards! oft Hayley linger’d here;

And Charlotte Smith [¹] hath grac’d thy current with a tear.

The Author of “A Tradesman’s Lays.” No. 85, Leather Lane.