SONNET IX. TO THE RIVER EDEN.
And dwell with fond delay on blessings past.
Shaw.
Thou murm'ring emblem of a troubled mind,
That wak'st fond Memory's tear, for ever true!
Time was, when, on thy moss-grown bank reclin'd,
I view'd thy surface ruffled by the wind,
As eager, light-wing'd Fancy forward flew;
Then did I dream of joys I ne'er could find—
'Twas life's gay spring, and sorrows were but few.
Sweet stream! whose mournful melody is dear,
Far from fell Slander and her wolfish brood!
A wand'rer oft, thy flow'r-clad margin near,
I'll pensive think of man's ingratitude;
And youth's gay age, when Mirth oft led me here,
Ere Mis'ry bade me drop the painful tear,
Or Hope, with flatt'ring tale, this bosom did delude.
