MACGREGOR.

      Beneath those very hills, where beauty threw
    Her mantle first o’er that earth-moulded fair,
    Who oft from sleep, while shedding many a tear,
    Awakens him that sends us unto you,
    Our lives in peacefulness and freedom flew,
    E’en as all creatures wish who hold life dear;
    Nor deem’d we aught could in its course come near,
    Whence to our wanderings danger might accrue. 
    But from the wretched state to which we’re brought,
    Leaving another with sereneness fraught,
    Nay, e’en from death, one comfort we obtain;
    That vengeance follows him who sent us here;
    Another’s utmost thraldom doomed to bear,
    Bound he now lies with a still stronger chain.

    NOTT.

SONNET IX.

Quando ‘l pianeta che distingue l’ ore.

WITH A PRESENT OF FRUIT IN SPRING.

      When the great planet which directs the hours
    To dwell with Taurus from the North is borne,
    Such virtue rays from each enkindled horn,
    Rare beauty instantly all nature dowers;
    Nor this alone, which meets our sight, that flowers
    Richly the upland and the vale adorn,
    But Earth’s cold womb, else lustreless and lorn,
    Is quick and warm with vivifying powers,
    Till herbs and fruits, like these I send, are rife. 
    —­So she, a sun amid her fellow fair,
    Shedding the rays of her bright eyes on me,
    Thoughts, acts, and words of love wakes into life—­
    But, ah! for me is no new Spring, nor e’er,
    Smile they on whom she will, again can be.

    MACGREGOR.

      When Taurus in his house doth Phoebus keep,
    There pours so bright a virtue from his crest
    That Nature wakes, and stands in beauty drest,
    The flow’ring meadows start with joy from sleep: 
    Nor they alone rejoice—­earth’s bosom deep
    (Though not one beam illumes her night of rest)
    Responsive smiles, and from her fruitful breast
    Gives forth her treasures for her sons to reap. 
    Thus she, who dwells amid her sex a sun,
    Shedding upon my soul her eyes’ full light,
    Each thought creates, each deed, each word of love: 
    But though my heart’s proud mastery she hath won
    Alas! within me dwells eternal night: 
    My spirit ne’er Spring’s genial breath doth prove.

    WOLLASTON.

SONNET X.

Gloriosa Colonna, in cui s’ appoggia.

TO STEFANO COLONNA THE ELDER, INVITING HIM TO THE COUNTRY.

      Glorious Colonna! still the strength and stay
    Of our best hopes, and the great Latin name
    Whom power could never from the true right way
    Seduce by flattery or by terror tame: 
    No palace, theatres, nor arches