Sonnet Viii. Poem by Henry Kirke White

Sonnet Viii.



So ravishing soft upon the tide
Of the infuriate gust, it did career,
It might have sooth'd its rugged charioteer,
And sunk him to a zephyr; - then it died,
Melting in melody; - and I descried,
Borne to some wizard stream, the form appear
Of druid sage, who on the far-off ear
Pour'd his lone song, to which the surge replied;
Or thought I heard the hapless pilgrim's knell,
Lost in some wild enchanted forest's bounds
By unseen beings sung; or are these sounds
Such, as 'tis said, at night are known to swell
By startled shepherd on the lonely heath,
Keeping his night-watch and portending death?

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