O why didst thou pity, and for a worm

Why touch thy soft lute

Till the thunder was mute,

Why was not I crush'd-such a pitiful germ?

O Delphic Apollo !

3.

The Pleiades were up,

Watching the silent air;

The seeds and roots in the Earth
Were swelling for summer fare;
The Ocean, its neighbour,

Was at its old labour,

When, who-who did dare

To tie, like a madman, thy plant round his brow, And grin and look proudly,

And blaspheme so loudly,

And live for that honour, to stoop to thee now?

O Delphic Apollo !

SONNET.

As from the darkening gloom a silver dove
Upsoars, and darts into the eastern light,
On pinions that nought moves but pure delight,
So fled thy soul into the realms above,

Regions of peace and everlasting love;

Where happy spirits, crown'd with circlets bright Of starry beam, and gloriously bedight, Taste the high joy none but the blest can prove. There thou or joinest the immortal quire

In melodies that even heaven fair
Fill with superior bliss, or, at desire,

Of the omnipotent Father, cleav'st the air
On holy message sent-What pleasure's higher ?
Wherefore does any grief our joy impair?

Lord Houghton gave this sonnet in the Aldine edition of 1876, with the date 1816. There is nothing to show to whose death the poet refers.

STANZAS TO MISS WYLIE.

I.

COME Georgiana! the rose is full blown,
The riches of Flora are lavishly strown,
The air is all softness, and crystal the streams,
The West is resplendently clothed in beams.

2.

O come! let us haste to the freshening shades,
The quaintly carv'd seats, and the opening glades;
Where the faeries are chanting their evening hymns,
And in the last sun-beam the sylph lightly swims.

3.

And when thou art weary I'll find thee a bed,
Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head:
And there Georgiana I'll sit at thy feet,
While my story of love I enraptur'd repeat.

4.

So fondly I'll breathe, and so softly I'll sigh,
Thou wilt think that some amorous Zephyr is nigh:
Yet no-as I breathe I will press thy fair knee,
And then thou wilt know that the sigh comes from me.

These stanzas, which are from the series of transcripts made by George Keats, are addressed to the object of the Sonnet to G. A. W. published in Keats's volume of 1817-to wit the lady who was after

5.

Ah! why dearest girl should we lose all these blisses?
That mortal's a fool who such happiness misses :
So smile acquiescence, and give me thy hand,
With love-looking eyes, and with voice sweetly bland.

wards the wife of George Keats. Though not so good as the Sonnet, they are on an equality with the verses in Keats's Tom Moore manner addressed to some ladies who sent him a shell and a copy of verses. They belong to the year 1816.

SONNET.

OH!

H! how I love, on a fair summer's eve,

When streams of light pour down the golden west,
And on the balmy zephyrs tranquil rest
The silver clouds, far-far away to leave
All meaner thoughts, and take a sweet reprieve
From little cares; to find, with easy quest,
A fragrant wild, with Nature's beauty drest,
And there into delight my soul deceive.
There warm my breast with patriotic lore,
Musing on Milton's fate-on Sydney's bier—
Till their stern forms before my mind arise:

Perhaps on wing of Poesy upsoar,

Full often dropping a delicious tear,

When some melodious sorrow spells mine eyes.

First given among the Literary Remains in the Life, Letters &c. (1848), with the date 1816.