Thy gentle virtues, in remembrance dear,
Shall yet thro’ many a day persuasive preach.
SONNET.—TO THE MOON.
Regent of night, thy presence must I love,
When from between the lowering clouds array’d,
In mild effulgence, o’er the silver cove
Thou spread’st a dubious light, and chequer’d shade:
At such a time my visionary mind
Thro’ Fancy’s glass sees forms ærial rise;