WRANGHAM.

      The nearer I approach my life’s last day,
    The certain day that limits human woe,
    I better mark, in Time’s swift silent flow,
    How the fond hopes he brought all pass’d away. 
    Of love no longer—­to myself I say—­
    We now may commune, for, as virgin snow,
    The hard and heavy load we drag below
    Dissolves and dies, ere rest in heaven repay. 
    And prostrate with it must each fair hope lie
    Which here beguiled us and betray’d so long,
    And joy, grief, fear and pride alike shall cease: 
    And then too shall we see with clearer eye
    How oft we trod in weary ways and wrong,
    And why so long in vain we sigh’d for peace.

    MACGREGOR.

SONNET XXVI.

Gia fiammeggiava l’ amorosa stella.

LAURA, WHO IS ILL, APPEARS TO HIM IN A DREAM, AND ASSURES HIM THAT SHE STILL LIVES.

      Throughout the orient now began to flame
    The star of love; while o’er the northern sky
    That, which has oft raised Juno’s jealousy,
    Pour’d forth its beauteous scintillating beam: 
    Beside her kindled hearth the housewife dame,
    Half-dress’d, and slipshod, ’gan her distaff ply: 
    And now the wonted hour of woe drew nigh,
    That wakes to tears the lover from his dream: 
    When my sweet hope unto my mind appear’d,
    Not in the custom’d way unto my sight;
    For grief had bathed my lids, and sleep had weigh’d;
    Ah me, how changed that form by love endear’d! 
    “Why lose thy fortitude?” methought she said,
    “These eyes not yet from thee withdraw their light.”

    NOTT.

      Already in the east the amorous star
    Illumined heaven, while from her northern height
    Great Juno’s rival through the dusky night
    Her beamy radiance shot.  Returning care
    Had roused th’ industrious hag, with footstep bare,
    And loins ungirt, the sleeping fire to light;
    And lovers thrill’d that season of despight,
    Which wont renew their tears, and wake despair. 
    When my soul’s hope, now on the verge of fate,
    (Not by th’ accustomed way; for that in sleep
    Was closed, and moist with griefs,) attain’d my heart. 
    Alas, how changed!  “Servant, no longer weep,”
    She seem’d to say; “resume thy wonted state: 
    Not yet thine eyes from mine are doom’d to part.”

    CHARLEMONT.

      Already, in the east, the star of love
    Was flaming, and that other in the north,
    Which Juno’s jealousy is wont to move,
    Its beautiful and lustrous rays shot forth;
    Barefooted and half clad, the housewife old
    Had stirr’d her fire, and set herself to weave;
    Each tender heart the thoughtful time controll’d
    Which evermore the lover wakes