Sonnet XCII

LOW murmurs creep along the woody vale,The tremulous Aspens shudder in the breeze,Slow o'er the downs the leaden vapours sail,While I, beneath these old paternal trees,Mark the dark shadows of the threaten'd storm,As gathering clouds o'erveil the morning sun;They pass!—But oh! ye visions bright and warmWith which even here my sanguine youth begun,Ye are obscured for ever!—And too lateThe poor Slave shakes the unworthy bonds awayWhich crush'd her!—Lo! the radiant star of dayLights up this lovely scene anew—My fateNor hope nor joy illumines—Nor for meReturn those rosy hours which here I used to see!