TWO SONNETS by CHARLOTTE SMITH.

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED 1797

On Being Cautioned Against Walking on an Headland Overlooking the Sea, Because It Was Frequented by a Lunatic

Is there a solitary wretch who hies

   To the tall cliff, with starting pace or slow,

And, measuring, views with wild and hollow eyes

   Its distance from the waves that chide below;

Who, as the sea-born gale with frequent sighs

   Chills his cold bed upon the mountain turf,

With hoarse, half-uttered lamentation, lies

   Murmuring responses to the dashing surf?

In moody sadness, on the giddy brink,

   I see him more with envy than with fear;

He has no nice felicities that shrink

   From giant horrors; wildly wandering here,

He seems (uncursed with reason) not to know

The depth or the duration of his woe.

(1797)

The Sea View

The upland shepherd, as reclined he lies

On the soft turf that clothes the mountain brow,

Marks the bright sea-line mingling with the skies;

Or from his course celestial sinking low

The summer sun in purple radiance glow

Blaze on the western waters; the wide scene

Magnificent and tranquil seems to spread

Even over the rustic's breast a joy serene,

When, like dark plague-spots by the demons shed,

Charged deep with death, upon the waves far seen

Move the war-freighted ships; and fierce and red

Flash their destructive fires--The mangled dead

And dying victims then pollute the flood.

Ah! thus man spoils glorious works with blood!

(1797)