SONNET.

MY castle stands upon a sunny hill,

Full high, to catch the incense-laden breeze

That wantons through the orange-blossomed trees,

Where mountain dews their fragrant sweets distil,

And all the air with balmy odors fill;

There flowery beds allure the roving bees,

Whose soothing monotones my senses please,

Joining in music with the gurgling rill.

Above, the threatening glacier gleams,

Swift torrents glide adown with silvery feet;

Below are heard the tinkling bells, the bleat

Of flocks that wander while their shepherd dreams,

Or watches shadows o'er the waving wheat,

When clouds obscure the sun's effulgent beams.