128 HENRY KIRKE WHITE's POEMS. 



And why its name, boast of Petrarchian da^ys, 



Assume, its rules disown 'd ? whom from the thro;ig 

 The Muse selects, their ear the charm obeys 

 Of its full harmony : — they fear to wrong 

 The Sonnet, by adorning with a name 



Of that distinguished import, lays, though sweet, 

 Yet not in magic texture taught to meet 

 Of that so varied and peculiar frame. 

 Oh think ! to vindicate its genuine praise 

 Those it beseems, whose Lyre a favouring impulse sways. 



SONNET VII. 



Recantatory, in reply to theforegohg Elegant Admonition. 



Let the sublimer Muse, who, wrapt in night, 

 Rides on the raven pennons of the storm, 

 Or o'er the field, with purple havoc warm, 



Lashes her steeds, and sings along the fight ; 



Let her, whom more ferocious strains delight, 

 Disdain the plaintive Sonnet's little form, 

 And scorn to its wild cadence to conform, 



The impetuous tenor of her hardy flight. 



But me, far lowest of the sylvan train. 



Who wake the wood-nymphs from the forest shade 

 AVith wildest song ; — Me, much behoves thy aid 



Of mingled melody, to grace my strain. 



And give it power to please, as soft it flows 



Through the smooth murmurs of thy frequent close. 



SONNET VIII. 

 On hearing the sounds of an u^olian harp. 

 So ravishingly soft upon the tide 

 Of the enfuriate gust, it did career, 

 It might have soothed its rugged charioteer, 

 And sunk him to a zephyr ; — then it died. 

 Melting in melody : — and I descried 



Borne to some wizard stream, the form appear 

 Of Druid sage, who on the far-ofic" ear 



