Sonnet 29. Farewell, Ye Tow’ring Cedars
Farewell, ye tow’ring Cedars, in whose shade, Lull’d by the Nightingale, I sunk to rest, While spicy breezes hover’d o’er my breast To fan my cheek, in deep’ning tints array’d; While am’rous insects, humming round me, play’d, Each flow’r forsook, of prouder sweets in quest; Of glowing lips, in humid fragrance drest, That mock’d the Sunny Hybla’s vaunted aid! Farewell, ye limpid rivers! Oh! farewell! No more shall Sappho to your grots repair; No more your white waves to her bosom swell, Or your dank weeds, entwine her floating hair; As erst, when Venus in her sparry cell Wept, to behold a brighter goddess there!
Mary Robinson’s other poems:
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