SONNET TO DISAPPOINTMENT. PALE disappointment! at thy freezing name Chill fears in every shiv'ring vein I prove; My sinking pulse almost forgets to move, And life almost forsakes my languid frame. Yet thee, relentless nymph! no more I blame: Why do my thoughts 'midst vain illusions rove? Why gild the charms of friendship and of love With the warm glow of fancy's purple flame? When ruffling winds have some bright fane o'erthrown, Which shone on painted clouds, or seem'd to shine, Shall the fond gazer dream for him alone Those clouds were sable, and at fate repine? — I feel, alas! the fault is all my own, And ah, the cruel punishment is mine!