POEMS

by

Robert Southey


1797





GODDESS of the LYRE! with thee comes
Majestic TRUTH; and where TRUTH deigns to come,
Her sister LIBERTY will not be far.

Akenside.




SONNET.


With wayworn feet a Pilgrim woe-begone
Life's upward road I journeyed many a day,
And hymning many a sad yet soothing lay
Beguil'd my wandering with the charms of song.
Lonely my heart and rugged was my way,