Poem by Mary Robinson

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!

1. Sonnet 6. Is It to Love
2. Sonnet 42. Oh! Canst Thou Bear
3. To the Muse of Poetry
4. Mistress Gurton’s Cat
5. Ode on Adversity

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