Sonnet


SONNET,

Upon the Close of the Campaign of 1793.


HAIL, drear December!—king of tempests,

hail!

Rise, wrapt in horrors!—armed with ven-

geance, rise!

Round thy pale throne tormented goblins wail,

And sanguine meteors streak with blood the

skies!

 

Grim tyrant! say, since light from darkness rose,

Was ever year before so red with crimes?

Ah, guilty year!— ah, year of murder!— close,

And be abhorred, accursed by future times!

 

In blood did spring, in blood did summer, mourn;

And autumn’s reeking vintage gushed with

gore!

Rather than scenes like these should e’er return,

May seed and harvest time return no more,

Eternal desolation blast the plain,

And winter, everlasting winter, reign!