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Mary Darby Robinson - Sonnet XXIX: Farewell, Ye Tow`ring Cedars
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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!
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