Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
Where morn, and eve, my soul's fair Idol stray'd,
While all your winds, that murmur'd thro' the glade,
Stole her sweet breath; yet, yet your paths retain
Prints of her step, by fount, whose floods remain
In depth unfathom'd; 'mid the rocks, that shade,
With cavern'd arch, their sleep. - Ye streams, that play'd
Around her limbs in Summer's ardent reign,
The soft resplendence of those azure eyes
Ting'd ye with living light. - The envied claim
These blest distinctions give, my lyre, my sighs,
My songs record; and, from their Poet's flame,
Bid this wild Vale, its Rocks, and Streams arise,
Associates still of their bright MISTRESS' fame.
1: This Sonnet is not a Translation or Paraphrase, but is written in the Character of Petrarch, and in imitation of his manner.