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Poems

Namely, The English Orator; An Address to Thomas Pennant Sonnets; An Epistle to a College Friend; and The Lock Transformed. With notes on The English Orator. By Mr. Polwhele
Polwhele, Richard (1760-1838)

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ADDRESS to THOMAS PENNANT, Esq.
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SONNETS.
 1. 
SONNET the FIRST. To Laura. Written 1782.
 2. 
SONNET the SECOND. On being prevented, by a sudden Shower, from meeting Laura. Written 1782.
 3. 
SONNET the THIRD. To his Wife. Written 1784.
 4. 
SONNET the FOURTH. To the same. Written 1784.
 5. 
SONNET the FIFTH. Written at Mamhead, beneath an Evergreen Oak—May, 1785.
 6. 
SONNET the SIXTH. Written at the Belvidere—Powderham, May, 1785.
 7. 
SONNET the SEVENTH.
 8. 
SONNET the EIGHTH.
 9. 
SONNET the NINTH.
 10. 
SONNET the TENTH.
 11. 
SONNET the ELEVENTH.
 12. 
SONNET the TWELFTH.
 13. 
SONNET the THIRTEENTH.
 14. 
SONNET the FOURTEENTH.
 17. 
SONNET the SEVENTEENTH. To Mr. Pratt, on reading his “Landscapes in Verse.” Written September, 1785.
 18. 
SONNET the EIGHTEENTH. To the Reverend Mr. Whitaker, Author of the History of Manchester, On his expressing his Approbation of the “Art of Eloquence.” Written November, 1785.
 19. 
SONNET the NINETEENTH. Presented to Major Drewe, with a Translation of the Military Poems of Tyrtæus.—January 26, 1786.
 20. 
SONNET the TWENTIETH. To the AUTHOR, on seeing his Plan for a History of Devonshire, 1790.
  
EPISTLE TO A COLLEGE-FRIEND,
  
THE LOCK TRANSFORMED.

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210

SONNET the EIGHTH.

[How sweet—what Time the quick-rekindling Day]

How sweet—what Time the quick-rekindling Day
His orient Colors on my Dove-Cot streams,—
Whose Gilding blushes in the vivid Ray,
And o'er my Window flings reflected Beams;
How sweet to listen to thy cooing Note,
While slumbers softly leave the unsealed Eye,
And on my Pillow lights the placid Thought
To bid the hovering Dream of Morning fly!
Yes, gentle Dove! may still thy plaintive Tone
Be the first rural Sound to meet my Ear!
And still this Breast such simple Pleasures own
That, as a Lesson, I may love to hear—
And picture, with no Gall to give Offence,
Wafted on every Note, thy Innocence!
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