Sonnet. TO THE MOON. QUEEN of the silver bow! by thy pale beam, That in thy orb the wretched may have rest; Forget in thee their cup of sorrow here. CHARLOTTE SMITH. Sonnet Ixxi. No longer mourn for me when I am dead, SHAKSPEARE. Sonnet. COME, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace, I will good tribute pay, if thou do so. SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. Lines. WRITTEN IN PASSING THROUGH VALE CRUCIS, IN OCTOBER, 1806. VALE of the cross, the shepherds tell Vale of the cross, the shepherds tell 'T is sweet within thy woods to dwell! The murmur of the distant rills, And all the quiet God hath given WILLIAM STANLEY ROSCOE. |