VI.

2.

Next Burns's light upon me shone, and smiled
In manly sentiment, and loving song;

And o'er his lyrics I delighted hung,

When woman's beauty first my heart beguiled.
Eliza! thou rememberest how wild

My transports were, how tender, deep, and strong The love that burn'd within me, and how long Passion and peace remain'd unreconciled.

His proud unbent integrity of mind,

His wit and satire spurning every rein,
His worship and his love of womankind,

The troubles that he struggled with in vain
Claim'd all my sympathy and deep enshrin'd
In memory's temple his most touching strain.

ONE

HUNDRED SONNETS.

ONE

HUNDRED SONNETS;

BY

HENRY FRANK LOTT.

"If thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven,
Then, to the measure of that Heaven-born light
Shine, Poet! in thy sphere, and be content."

WORDSWORTH.

LONDON:

WILLOUGHBY AND CO., WARWICK LANE,

AND SMITHFIELD.

1851.

280. p. 411.