Sonnet C

Written December 1790

Lyre of the Sonnet, that full many a time

Amus'd my lassitude, and sooth'd my pains,

When graver cares forbade the lengthen'd strains,

To thy brief bound, and oft-returning chime

A long farewell!—the splendid forms of Rhyme

When Grief in lonely orphanism reigns,

Oppress the drooping Soul.—Death's dark domains

Throw mournful shadows o'er the Aonian clime;

For in their silent bourne my filial bands

Lie all dissolv'd;—and swiftly-wasting pour

From my frail glass of life, health's sparkling sands.

Sleep then, my Lyre, thy tuneful tasks are o'er,

Sleep! for my heart bereav'd, and listless hands

Wake with rapt touch thy glowing strings no more!