Sonnet

n vain doth Grandeur trick'd in gorgeous pall, Stalk stately by, and point to glittering joys, In vain doth Mammon spread his gilded toys, To lure a careless wight to bitter thrall, In vain doth loudly-laughing Pleasure call To loose delights and days of mirthful noise, Hence, hated fiends—Me gentle Peace accoys Her cup is heavenly sweet undash'd with gall. Yblest in her with slow and secret tread I wander loitering in the arched grove, Fancy's gay dreams aye dancing round my head, There jolly elves at midnight nimbly move Their dainty feet, and shades of mighty dead Glide pale athwart my path. Such scenes the Muses love.