Anna Seward

“ Perceive ye in rapt Poesy, tho' bright
In Fancy's richest colouring, than can flow
From jewel'd treasures in the central night
Of their deep caves.—You have no Sun to show
Their inborn radiance pure.—Go, Snarlers, go;
Nor your defects of feeling, and of sight,
To charge upon the Poet thus presume,
Ye lightless minds, whate'er of title proud,
Scholar, or Sage, or Critic, ye assume,
Arraigning his high claims with censure loud,
Or sickly scorn; yours, yours is all the cloud,
Gems cannot sparkle in the midnight Gloom.
[Pg 25]
SONNET XXIII. TO
MISS E. S. ”

“ Thro' his chill frame, and tremble at his heart:
"What tho' HONORA'S voice no more shall charm
"No more her beamy smile my bosom warm!
"Yet from these eyes shall force for ever tear
"The sacred Image of that Form so dear? --
"Shade of my Love!10 -- tho' mute and cold thy charms,
"Ne'er hast thou blest my happy Rival's arms!
"To my sad heart each Dawn has seen thee prest!
"Each Night has laid thee pillow'd on my breast!
"Force shall not tear thee from thy faithful shrine;
"Shade of my Love! thou shalt be ever mine! ”

“ The grateful thoughts to God, ere they unfold
To Friendship, or the Muse, or seek with glee
Wisdom's rich page!--O, hours! more worth than gold,
By whose blest use we lengthen life, and free
From drear decays of age, outlive the old. ”

“ SONNET LVIII. Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes,
The Parian Statue, bending o'er the Urn,
The dark robe floating, the dejection worn
On the dropt eye, and lip no smile illumes;
Not all this pomp of sorrow, that presumes
It pays Affection's debt, is due concern
To the FOR EVER ABSENT, tho' it mourn
Fashion's allotted time. If Time consumes,
While Life is ours, the precious vestal-flame
Memory shou'd hourly feed;—if, thro' each day,
She with whate'er we see, hear, think, or say,
Blend not the image of the vanish'd Frame,
O! ”

“ TO THE FOUNTAIN OF BLANDUSIA. BOOK THE THIRD, ODE THE THIRTEENTH.
Nymph of the stream, whose source perpetual pours
The living waters thro' the sparkling sand,
Cups of bright wine, enwreath'd with summer flowers,
For rich libation, round thy brink shall stand,
When on the morrow, at thy Bard's decree,
A young and spotless Kid is sacrificed to thee.
He, while his brows the primal antlers swell,
Conscious of strength, and gay of heart prepares
To meet the female, and the foe repel.—
In vain he wishes, and in vain he dares! ”

“ The Heart estranged no anguish can regain.
July 1773.
[Pg 15]
SONNET XIII. Thou child of Night, and Silence, balmy Sleep,
Shed thy soft poppies on my aching brow!
And charm to rest the thoughts of whence, or how
Vanish'd that priz'd Affection, wont to keep
Each grief of mine from rankling into woe.
Then stern Misfortune from her bended bow
Loos'd the dire strings;—and Care, and anxious Dread
From my cheer'd heart, on sullen pinion, fled.
But now, the spell dissolv'd, th' Enchantress gone,
Ceaseless those cruel Fiends infest my day,
And sunny hours but light them to their prey. ”

“ Twenty, perchance, for millions whirled away!
Emblem--alas too just!--of human kind:
Vain man expects longevity, designed
For few indeed; and their protracted day--
What is it worth that wisdom does not scorn? ”

“ Trac'd with disorder'd hand Campaspe's charms,
And as their beams the kindling Canvas warms,
Triumphant Love, with still superior art,
Engraves their wonders on the Painter's heart.
Dear lost Companion! ever-constant Youth! ”

“ SONNET III. WRITTEN AT BUXTON IN A RAINY SEASON.
From these wild heights, where oft the mists descend
In rains, that shroud the sun, and chill the gale,
Each transient, gleaming interval we hail,
And rove the naked vallies, and extend
Our gaze around, where yon vast mountains blend
With billowy clouds, that o'er their summits sail;
Pondering, how little Nature's charms befriend
The barren scene, monotonous, and pale.
Yet solemn when the darkening shadows fleet
Successive o'er the wide and silent hills,
Gilded by watry sun-beams, then we meet
Peculiar pomp of vision. ”

“ And while I mourn'd her fate, rever'd her Foes.
But when, repentant of her prouder aim,
She gently waives the long-disputed claim
Extends the Charter with your Rights restor'd,
And hides in olive-wreaths the blood-stain'd sword,
Then to reject her peaceful wreaths, and throw
Your Country's Freedom to our mutual Foe
Infatuate Land! -- from that detested day
Distracted Councils, and the thirst of Sway,
Rapacious Avarice, Superstition vile,
And all the Frenchman dictates in his guile
Disgrace your CONGRESS! -- Justice drops her scale! ”

“ Guiding the ductile course of murmuring rills;
Or mark the curtains of the sacred grove
Sink in the vales, or sweep along the hills.
[6] Ah Friend! if round my cell such graces shine,
The Palace of Tiburnian Shades is thine;
She every feature of the Scene commands,
And Empress of its varied beauty stands.
Tho' frequent mists the young Favonius shroud,
Bending his flagging wing with heavy rains,
Yet oft he chases every showery cloud,
Winnowing, with pinion light, th' aerial plains;
Ah! thus from thee let each dark vapor roll,
That rash Ambition gathers on the soul ”

“ With one pare hand the bloody scroll2 he rears,
And bids his nations blot it with their tears
And one, extended o'er th' Atlantic wave,
Points to his ANDRE'S ignominious grave!
And shall the Muse, that marks the solemn scene,
"As busy Fancy lifts the veil between,"
Refuse to mingle in the awful train,
"Nor breathe with glowing zeal the votive strain? ”

“ Shaming the vain Experience Time had brought.
Dependence scarcely feels his gentle sway,
He shares each want, and smiles each grief away;
And to the virtues of a noble Heart,
Unites the talents of inventive Art. ”

“ Autumn resembling faded age in Man;
Night, with its silence, and its darkness drear,
Emblem of Winter's frore and gloomy reign,
When torpid lie the vegetative Powers;
Winter, so shrunk, so cold, reminds us plain
Of the mute Grave, that o'er the dim Corse lours;
There shall the Weary rest, nor ought remain
To the pale Slumberer of Life's checker'd hours.
[Pg 27]
SONNET XXV. [1] PETRARCH to VAUCLUSE.
Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
Where morn, and eve, my soul's fair Idol stray'd,
While all your winds, that murmur'd thro' the glade,
Stole her sweet breath ”

“ TO SALLUST. BOOK THE SECOND, ODE THE SECOND.
Dark in the Miser's chest, in hoarded heaps,
Can Gold, my Sallust, one true joy bestow,
Where sullen, dim, and valueless it sleeps,
Whose worth, whose charms, from circulation flow?
Ah! then it shines attractive on the thought,
Rises, with such resistless influence fraught
As puts to flight pale Fear, and Scruple cold,
Till Life, e'en Life itself, becomes less dear than Gold.
[Pg 126]
Rome, of this power aware, thy honor'd name
O Proculeius! ”

“ The British Legions pour th' indignant tear!
Round the dropt arm the funeral scarf entwine,11
And in their heart's deep core thy worth enshrine,
While my weak Muse, in fond attempt and vain,
But feebly pours a perishable strain,
Oh! ye distinguish'd Few! whose glowing lays
Bright Phoebus kindles with his purest rays,
Snatch from its radiant source the living fire,
And light with Vestal flame your ANDRE'S HALLOW'D PYRE.
This work was published before January 1, 1928, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. ”

“ Was honor'd Gray's departed form resign'd;
No tears dissolve the cold Lethean chains,
That, far from busy Life, the mortal semblance bind.
Then, for the bright creations of the brain,
O! do not thou from health's gay leisure turn,
Lest we, like tuneful Mason, sigh in vain,
And grasp a timeless, tho' a laurel'd Urn!
1: Aglaia, the eldest of the Graces.
TO LIGURIA. BOOK THE FOURTH, ODE THE TENTH.
O thou! exulting in the charms,
Nature, with lavish bounty, showers,
When youth no more thy spirit warms,
And stealing age thy pride alarms,
For fleeting graces, and for waning powers ”

“ The plenteous tribute of the Libyan Plains;
Or he, who watches still a rural charge,
O'er his own fields directs the plough,
Sees his own fruitage load the bough;
These would'st thou tempt to brave the faithless main,
And tempt with regal wealth, thy effort should be vain.
I. The stormy South howls thro' the sullen cloud,
Contending billows roar aloud!
The Merchant sees the gathering danger rise,
And sends a thousand yearning sighs
To his dear shelter'd home.—
Its shades receive him;—but the tides
Grow smooth;—the wild winds cease to roam ”

“ The white sails bend, the streaming pennants glow;
And swiftly waft him to the Western plain,
Where fierce Bellona rages o'er the slain.
Firm in their strength, opposing Legions stand,
Prepar'd to drench with blood the thirsty Land. ”

“ The trust, whether partial or not, that it was in my power so to paraphrase the Odes of Horace, prompted the late Mr. Grove of Lichfield, and the late Mr. Dewes of Wellsburn in Warwickshire, to request that I would undertake the task respecting those whose subjects best pleased me. Not acquainted with each other, the coincidence of their opinion and request was flattering. They were extensively known to be Gentlemen of distinguished virtues, much classic erudition, and poetic taste;
“Blest with each talent, and each art to please,
And born to write, converse, and live at ease.” ”

“ And radiant Liberty averts her sail?
They fly indignant the polluted plain,
Where Truth is scorn'd, and Mercy pleads in vain.
That she does plead in vain, thy witness bear,
Accursed Hour! -- thou darkest of the Year! ”