Sonnet C. Written December 1790.

Lyre of the Sonnet, that full many a time
    Amus'd my lassitude, and sooth'd my pains,
    When graver cares forbade the lengthen'd strains,
    To thy brief bound, and oft-returning chime
A long farewell! - the splendid forms of Rhyme
    When Grief in lonely orphanism reigns,
    Oppress the drooping Soul. - DEATH's dark domains
    Throw mournful shadows o'er the Aonian clime;
For in their silent bourne my filial bands
    Lie all dissolv'd; - and swiftly-wasting pour
    From my frail glass of life, health's sparkling sands.
Sleep then, my LYRE, thy tuneful tasks are o'er,
    Sleep! for my heart bereav'd, and listless hands
    Wake with rapt touch thy glowing strings no more!

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 XXV. [1]Petrarch To Vaucluse.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet I.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet LXXVIII.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet VIII. Translation.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

English

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Sonnet XLVI.

Dark as the silent stream beneath the night,
    Thy funeral glides to Life's eternal home,
    Child of its narrow house! - how late the bloom,
    The facile smile, the soft eye's crystal light,
Each grace of Youth's gay morn, that charms our sight,
    Play'd o'er that Form! - now sunk in Death's cold gloom,
    Insensate! ghastly! - for the yawning tomb,
    Alas! fit Inmate. - Thus we mourn the blight
Of Virgin-Beauty, and endowments rare
    In their glad hours of promise. - O! when Age
    Drops, like the o'er-blown, faded rose, tho' dear
Its long known worth, no stormy sorrows rage;
    But swell when we behold, unsoil'd by time,
    Youth's broken Lily perished in its prime.

Anna Seward

Sonnet LXII.

[1]Dim grows the vital flame in his dear breast
    From whom my life I drew; - and thrice has Spring
    Bloom'd; and fierce Winter thrice, on darken'd wing,
    Howl'd o'er the grey, waste fields, since he possess'd
Or strength of frame, or intellect. - - Now bring
    Nor Morn, nor Eve, his cheerful steps, that press'd
    Thy pavement, LICHFIELD, in the spirit bless'd
    Of social gladness. They have fail'd, and cling
Feebly to the fix'd chair, no more to rise
    Elastic! - Ah! my heart forebodes that soon
    The FULL OF DAYS shall sleep; - nor Spring's soft sighs,
Nor Winter's blast awaken him! - Begun
    The twilight! - Night is long! - but o'er his eyes
    Life-weary slumbers weigh the pale lids down!

1: When this Sonnet was written, the Subject of it ...

Anna Seward

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.
Then welcome Midnight shades, when thy wish'd boon
    May in oblivious dews my eye-lids steep,
    THOU CHILD OF NIGHT, AND SILENCE, BALMY SLEEP!

July 1773.

Anna Seward

Sonnet XC. Subject Continued.

My hour is not yet come! - these burning eyes
    Have not yet look'd their last! - else, 'mid the roar
    Of this wild STORM, what gloomy joy to pour
    My freed, exhaling Soul! - sublime to rise,
Rend the conflicting clouds, inflame the skies,
    And lash the torrents! - Bending to explore
    Our evening seat, my straining eye once more
    Roves the wide watry Waste; - but nought descries
Save the pale Flood, o'erwhelming as it strays.
    Yet Oh! lest my remorseless Fate decree
    That all I love, with life's extinguish'd rays
Sink from my soul, to soothe this agony,
    To balm that life, whose loss may forfeit thee,
    COME DEAR REMEMBRANCE OF DEPARTED DAYS!

Anna Seward

Sonnet XXXII. Subject Of The Preceding Sonnet Continued.

Behold him now his genuine colours wear,
    That specious False-One, by whose cruel wiles
    I lost thy amity; saw thy dear smiles
    Eclips'd; those smiles, that us'd my heart to cheer,
Wak'd by thy grateful sense of many a year
    When rose thy youth, by Friendship's pleasing toils
    Cultur'd; - but DYING! - O! for ever fade
    The angry fires. - Each thought, that might upbraid
Thy broken faith, which yet my soul deplores,
    Now as eternally is past and gone
    As are the interesting, the happy hours,
Days, years, we shar'd together. They are flown!
    Yet long must I lament thy hapless doom,
    Thy lavish'd life and early-hasten'd tomb.

Anna Seward

Sonnet XCVIII.

Since my griev'd mind some energy regains,
    Industrious habits can, at times, repress
    The weight of filial woe, the deep distress
    Of life-long separation; yet its pains,
Oft do they throb along these fever'd veins. -
    My rest has lost its balm, the fond caress
    Wont the dear aged forehead to impress
    At midnight, as he slept; - nor now obtains
My uprising the blest news, that cou'd impart
    Joy to the morning, when its dawn had brought
    Some health to that weak Frame, o'er which my heart
With fearful fondness yearn'd, and anxious thought. -
    Time, and the HOPE that robs the mortal Dart
    Of its fell sting, shall cheer me - as they ought.

Anna Seward