Sonnet XXX

BE the proud Thames of trade the busy mart!Arun! to thee will other praise belong;Dear to the lover's and the mourner's heart,And ever sacred to the sons of song!

Thy banks romantic hopeless Love shall seek,Where o'er the rocks the mantling bindwith flaunts;And Sorrow's drooping form and faded cheekChoose on thy willow'd shore her lonely haunts!

Banks! which inspired thy Otway's plaintive strain!Wilds!—whose lorn echoes learn'd the deeper toneOf Collins' powerful shell! yet once againAnother poet—Hayley is thine own!Thy classic stream anew shall hear a lay,Bright as its waves, and various as its way!