Sonnet IV To the Welsh Harp
Loved instrument! again repeat those sounds,
Those plaintive airs, that through my senses steal
With melancholy sweet. Their pow’r I feel
Soothing my sadness, healing sorrow’s wounds.
Gently thou lull’st my sufferings to repose,
Inclin’st my heart to every virtuous deed;
Removing from my mind each dark’ning shade
That clouds my days, increasing all my woes.
Now swelling with the breeze, along thy vales,
Romantic Cambria! the strain I hear,
Then dying soft away, comes o’er my ear
In whispers soft, still wafted by thy gales!
Loved instrument! again repeat those sounds,
Soothing my sadness, healing sorrow’s wounds.