16.12.2012, 20:27
Prefatory Sonnet,
by THE REV. JOHN MITFORD, B. A. VICAR OF BENHALL,
AND RECTOR OF WESTON ST. PETER.
Deem not inelegant his Mind, who loves
'Mid the rude Chronicles of Elder Time
Awhile to sojourn ; and, with fabled rhyme,
In these late days, again in fancy roves
Through moated Halls, and Fields, and ancient Graves,
Beneath whose shade our Fathers, in their prime,
Have sate ; — but now corroding age and crime
Have left but what their ancient glory proves.
Yet come : — and 'mid these mouldering
Relics trace The pensive shadows of departed years ;
Mark, how again, with renovated grace,
Its front the long-forgotten Mansion rears ;
And all, upstarting in its wonted place,
As touch'd by some enchanter's wand, appears.
by THE REV. JOHN MITFORD, B. A. VICAR OF BENHALL,
AND RECTOR OF WESTON ST. PETER.
Deem not inelegant his Mind, who loves
'Mid the rude Chronicles of Elder Time
Awhile to sojourn ; and, with fabled rhyme,
In these late days, again in fancy roves
Through moated Halls, and Fields, and ancient Graves,
Beneath whose shade our Fathers, in their prime,
Have sate ; — but now corroding age and crime
Have left but what their ancient glory proves.
Yet come : — and 'mid these mouldering
Relics trace The pensive shadows of departed years ;
Mark, how again, with renovated grace,
Its front the long-forgotten Mansion rears ;
And all, upstarting in its wonted place,
As touch'd by some enchanter's wand, appears.