Odes From Horace. - To Apollo. Book The First, Ode The Thirty-First.

    What asks the POET, when he pours
His first libation in the Delphic Bowers?
    Duteous before the altar standing,
    With lively hope his soul expanding,
O! what demands he, when the crimson wine
Flows sparkling from the vase, and laves the golden shrine?

    Not the rich and swelling grain
    That yellows o'er Sardinia's isle;
Nor snowy herds, slow winding thro' the plain,
When warm Calabria's rosy mornings smile;
    Nor gold, nor gems, that India yields,
    Nor yet those fair and fertile fields,
Which, thro' their flow'ry banks as calm he glides,
The silent [1]Liris' azure stream divides.

    Let those, for whom kind fortune still
Leads lavish tendrils o'er the sloping hill,
    Let such, with care their vineyard dressing,
    Their bursting grapes assiduous pressing,
Gather, self-gratulant, the costly store,
And of the future year propitious suns implore!

    May luscious wines, in cups of gold,
    Oft for the wealthy Merchant flow!
Nor let cold Thrift those plenteous draughts withhold
That prosperous Commerce shall again bestow.
    The flowing bowl he safely drains,
    Since every favouring God ordains
That more than [2]once, within the circling year,
His prow shall o'er the smooth Atlantic steer.

    Me, let tawny olives feed!
Me, lenient mallows from the simple mead!
    Son of Latona, grant the blessing,
    That, a cloudless mind possessing,
And not infirm of frame, in soft decay,
Cheer'd by the breathing lyre, my life may pass away!

Anna Seward

Anna Seward was an English Romantic poet often called the 'Swan of Lichfield'. She was known for both her poetry and her extensive letter writing, which provided insight into 18th-century literary life. Seward was a steadfast critic of the neoclassicism that dominated much of the contemporary poetry scene, favoring a Romantic approach that sought to capture emotion and natural beauty. Her works often revolved around themes of love, loss, and nature. She was also a close friend of writers such as Erasmus Darwin and Samuel Johnson.

Anna Seward

Sonnet LII.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet VI. Written At Lichfield, In An Eastern Apartment Of The Bishop's Palace, Which Commands A View Of Stow Valley.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet LI. To Sylvia On Her Approaching Nuptials.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Odes From Horace. - To The Roman People, On Their Renewing The Civil Wars. Book The Fifth, Ode The Seventh.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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Odes From Horace. - To Mæcenas. Book The First, Ode The First.

I.

Mæcenas, from Etrurian Princes sprung,
    For whom my golden lyre I strung,
Friend, Patron, Guardian of its rising song,
    O mark the Youth, that towers along,
    With triumph in his air;
    Proud of Olympic dust, that soils
    His burning cheek and tangled hair!
Mark how he spreads the palm, that crown'd his toils!
    Each look the throbbing hope reveals
    That his fleet steeds and kindling wheels,
Swept round the skilfully-avoided goal,
Shall with illustrious Chiefs his echo'd name enrol.


II.

    Who the civic crown obtains,
    Or bears into his granaries large
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 fr...

Anna Seward

To Apollo. I-31 (From The Odes Of Horace)

    What prays the poet of enshrined Apollo?
        What is he asking for with lifted hands,
    Pouring a fresh libation from his flagon? -
        Not fertile crop from rich Sardinian lands, -
    Not the fair herds of sultry, damp Calabria, -
        Not even Indian ivory and gold; -
    Nor meadows that the Liris, silent river,
        With sluggish flow has nibbled, as it rolled.
    Let those whom Fortune has endowed with vineyards,
        With the Calenian knife their grapevines trim,
    Let the rich merchant from his golden goblet
        Drink wine by Syrian traffic bought for him.
    Dear to the very gods he three times yearly,
        Yes four times, travels the Atlantic Sea
    Unharmed. But I - I feed myself on olives,
        Ay, succory and soft ...

Helen Leah Reed

Odes From Horace. - [1]To Telephus. Book The Third, Ode The Nineteenth.

The number of the vanish'd years
    That mark each famous Grecian reign,
This night, my Telephus, appears
    Thy solemn pleasure to explain;

Or else assiduously to dwell,
    In conscious eloquence elate,
On those who conquer'd, those who fell
    At sacred Troy's devoted gate.

But at what price the cask, so rare,
    Of luscious chian may be ours,
Who shall the tepid baths prepare,
    And who shall strew the blooming flowers;

Beneath what roof we next salute,
    And when shall smile these gloomy skies,
Thy wondrous eloquence is mute,
    Nor here may graver topics rise. -

Fill a bright bumper, - to the Moon!
    She's new! - auspicious be her birth!
One to the Midnight! - 't is our noon
    Of jocund thought, and fes...

Anna Seward

Odes From Horace. - To [1]Munatius Plancus. Book The First, Ode The Seventh.

Be far-fam'd [2]RHODES the theme of loftier strains,
Or [3]MITYLENE, as their Bard decrees;
Or EPHESUS, where great DIANA reigns,
Or CORINTH, towering 'twixt the rival seas;
Or THEBES, illustrious in thy birth divine,
Purpureal BACCHUS; - or of PHOEBUS' shrine
DELPHOS oracular; or warbling hail
Thessalian TEMPE's flower-embroider'd vale.

The Art-crown'd City, chaste MINERVA's pride,
There are, whose endless numbers have pourtray'd;
They, to each tree that spreads its branches wide,
Prefer the [4]tawny Olive's scanty shade.
Many, in JUNO's honor, sing thy meads,
Green ARGOS, glorying in thy agile steeds;
Or opulent MYCENE, whose proud fanes
The blood of murder'd AGAMEMNON stains.

Nor patient LACEDÆMON wakes my lyre,
Who trains her Sons to all t...

Anna Seward

Odes From Horace. - [1]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!
His ardent blood thy pebbly bed shall stain,
Till each translucent wave flows crimson to the plain.

In vain shall Sirius shake his fiery hairs
    O'er thy pure flood, with waving poplars veil'd,
For thou, when most his sultry influence glares,
    Refreshing shade, and cooling draugh...

Anna Seward

Odes From Horace. - To Phidyle. Exhorting Her To Be Content With A Frugal Sacrifice. Book The Third, Ode The Twenty-Third.

My Phidyle, retir'd in shady wild,
    If thou thy virgin hands shalt suppliant raise,
If primal fruits are on thy altars pil'd,
    And incense pure thy duteous care conveys,
To sooth the LARES, when the moon adorns,
With their first modest light, her taper horns;

And if we pierce the throat of infant swine,
    A frugal victim, not the baleful breath
Of the moist South shall blast our tender vine;
    Nor shall the lambs sink in untimely death
When the unwholesome gales of Autumn blow,
And shake the ripe fruit from the bending bough.

Let snowy Algidum's wide vallies feed,
    Beneath their stately holme, and spreading oak,
Or the rich herbage of Albania's mead,
    The Steer, whose blood on lofty Shrines shall smoke!
Red may it stain the P...

Anna Seward