A Fragment

Stretch'd on a moulder'd Abbey's broadest wall, Where ruining ivies propp'd the ruins steep-- Her folded arms wrapping her tatter'd pall, [73:2]Had Melancholy mus'd herself to sleep. The fern was press'd beneath her hair, The dark green Adder's Tongue[74:1] was there; And still as pass'd the flagging sea-gale weak, The long lank leaf bow'd fluttering o'er her cheek.

That pallid cheek was flush'd: her eager look Beam'd eloquent in slumber! Inly wrought, Imperfect sounds her moving lips forsook, And her bent forehead work'd with troubled thought. Strange was the dream----

? 1794.