Sonnet.

SONNET.

WHEN first you sought my rural cot, And found my friendship there; Daphne, contented with your lot, You shar'd my simple fare.

I chill'd you not with cold reserve, Nor wore a haughty frown; Tho' what your merit might deserve, Was yet to me unknown.

A cheerful welcome to impart, I spread my little stores; And oft I rais'd your drooping heart, With hopes of happier hours.

To you my friendship lent its aid, And call'd its vigour forth; For prosp'rous scenes it wish'd display'd, To unassuming worth.

It was not fed by airy dreams, Nor hop'd for high return; Nor could it fear the hard extremes, Of hate and haughty scorn.