For works with similar titles, see Sonnet.
SONNET,ON BEING REQUESTED TO WRITE ON SCOTTISH SCENERY.
Fair art thou, Scotia! The swift mountain stream
Gushes, with deaf'ning roar and whit'ning spray,
From thy brown hills; where eagles seek their prey,
Or soar, undazzled, in the solar beam.
But, dearer far to me, be thou my theme,
My native Hampshire! Thy sweet vallies gay,
Trees, spires, and cots, that in the brilliant ray
Confus'dly glitter, like a morning dream.
And thou, fair forest! lovely are thy shades,
Thy oaks majestic, o'er the billows pale
High spreading their green arms: Or the deep glades,
Where the dark holly, arm'd in prickly mail,
Shelters the yellow fern, and tufted blades,
That wave responsive to the sighing gale.
Gushes, with deaf'ning roar and whit'ning spray,
From thy brown hills; where eagles seek their prey,
Or soar, undazzled, in the solar beam.
But, dearer far to me, be thou my theme,
My native Hampshire! Thy sweet vallies gay,
Trees, spires, and cots, that in the brilliant ray
Confus'dly glitter, like a morning dream.
And thou, fair forest! lovely are thy shades,
Thy oaks majestic, o'er the billows pale
High spreading their green arms: Or the deep glades,
Where the dark holly, arm'd in prickly mail,
Shelters the yellow fern, and tufted blades,
That wave responsive to the sighing gale.