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A SONNET; written at W---de in the Absence of ---.

By the Same.

W---de, thy beechen slopes with waving grain
Border'd, thine azure views of wood and lawn,
Whilom could charm, or when the joyous Dawn
'Gan Night's dun robe with flushing purple stain,

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Or Evening drove to fold her woolly train;
Her fairest landscapes whence my Muse has drawn,
Too free with servile courtly phrase to fawn,
Too weak to try the Buskin's stately strain;
Yet now no more thy slopes of beech and corn
Nor prospects charm, since He far-distant strays
With whom I trac'd their sweets each eve and morn,
From Albion far, to cull Hesperian bays;
In this alone they please, howe'er forlorn,
That still they can recall those happier days.