What dread I feel when I revolve the day
    I left my mistress, sad, without repose,
    My heart too with her:  and my fond thought knows
    Nought on which gladlier, oft’ner it can stay. 
    Again my fancy doth her form portray
    Meek among beauty’s train, like to some rose
    Midst meaner flowers; nor joy nor grief she shows;
    Not with misfortune prest but with dismay. 
    Then were thrown by her custom’d cheerfulness,
    Her pearls, her chaplets, and her gay attire,
    Her song, her laughter, and her mild address;
    Thus doubtingly I quitted her I love: 
    Now dark ideas, dreams, and bodings dire
    Raise terrors, which Heaven grant may groundless prove!

    NOTT.

SONNET CCXII.

Solea lontana in sonno consolarme.

SHE ANNOUNCES TO HIM, IN A VISION, THAT HE WILL NEVER SEE HER MORE.

      To soothe me distant far, in days gone by,
    With dreams of one whose glance all heaven combined,
    Was mine; now fears and sorrow haunt my mind,
    Nor can I from that grief, those terrors fly: 
    For oft in sleep I mark within her eye
    Deep pity with o’erwhelming sadness join’d;
    And oft I seem to hear on every wind
    Accents, which from my breast chase peace and joy. 
    “That last dark eve,” she cries, “remember’st thou,
    When to those doting eyes I bade farewell,
    Forced by the time’s relentless tyranny? 
    I had not then the power, nor heart to tell,
    What thou shalt find, alas! too surely true—­
    Hope not again on earth thy Laura’s face to see.”

    WRANGHAM.

SONNET CCXIII.

O misera ed orribil visione.

HE CANNOT BELIEVE IN HER DEATH, BUT IF TRUE, HE PRAYS GOD TO TAKE HIM ALSO FROM LIFE.

      O misery! horror! can it, then, be true,
    That the sweet light before its time is spent,
    ’Mid all its pains which could my life content,
    And ever with fresh hopes of good renew? 
    If so, why sounds not other channels through,
    Nor only from herself, the great event? 
    No!  God and Nature could not thus consent,
    And my dark fears are groundless and undue. 
    Still it delights my heart to hope once more
    The welcome sight of that enchanting face,
    The glory of our age, and life to me. 
    But if, to her eternal home to soar,
    That heavenly spirit have left her earthly place,
    Oh! then not distant may my last day be!

    MACGREGOR.

SONNET CCXIV.

In dubbio di mio stato, or piango, or canto.

TO HIS LONGING TO SEE HER AGAIN IS NOW ADDED THE FEAR OF SEEING HER NO MORE.