Sonnet LXV. To The Same.

Marcellus, since the ardors of my strain
    To thy young eyes and kindling fancy, gleam
    With somewhat of the vivid hues, that stream
    From Poesy's bright orb, each envious stain
Shed by dull Critics, venal, vex'd and vain,
    Seems recompens'd at full; - and so wou'd seem
    Did not maturer Sons of Phoebus deem
    My verse Aonian. - Thou, in time, shalt gain,
Like them, amid the letter'd World, that sway
    Which makes encomium fame; - so thou adorn,
    Extend, refine and dignify thy lay,
And Indolence, and Syren Pleasure scorn;
    Then, at high noon, thy Genius shall display
    The splendors promis'd in its shining morn.

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 LXXI. To The Poppy.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet XCVI.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Odes From Horace. - To Nea[=E]ra. Book The Fifth, Epode The Fifteenth.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet XXXVI. Summer.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Sonnet LXXXVII. To A Young Lady, Addressed By A Gentleman Celebrated For His Poetic Talents.

Round Cleon's brow the Delphic laurels twine,
    And lo! the laurel decks Amanda's breast!
    Charm'd shall he mark its glossy branches shine
    On that contrasting snow; shall see express'd
Love's better omens, in the green hues dress'd
    Of this selected foliage. - Nymph, 't is thine
    The warning story on its leaves to find,
    Proud Daphne's fate, imprison'd in its rind,
And with its umbrage veil'd, great Phoebus' power
    Scorning, and bent, with feet of wind, to foil
    His swift pursuit, till on Thessalian shore
Shot into boughs, and rooted to the soil. -
    Thus warn'd, fair Maid, Apollo's ire to shun,
    Soon may his Spray's and VOTARY's lot be one.

Anna Seward

Sonnet XXII. Subject Continued.

You, whose dull spirits feel not the fine glow
    Enthusiasm breathes, no more of light
    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.

Anna Seward

Sonnet XI.

How sweet to rove, from summer sun-beams veil'd,
    In gloomy dingles; or to trace the tide
    Of wandering brooks, their pebbly beds that chide;
    To feel the west-wind cool refreshment yield,
That comes soft creeping o'er the flowery field,
    And shadow'd waters; in whose bushy side
    The Mountain-Bees their fragrant treasure hide
    Murmuring; and sings the lonely Thrush conceal'd! -
Then, Ceremony, in thy gilded halls,
    Where forc'd and frivolous the themes arise,
    With bow and smile unmeaning, O! how palls
At thee, and thine, my sense! - how oft it sighs
    For leisure, wood-lanes, dells, and water-falls;
    And feels th' untemper'd heat of sultry skies!

Anna Seward

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

Sonnet XCI.

On the fleet streams, the Sun, that late arose,
    In amber radiance plays; - the tall young grass
    No foot hath bruis'd; - clear Morning, as I pass,
    Breathes the pure gale, that on the blossom blows;
And, as with gold yon green hill's summit glows,
    The lake inlays the vale with molten glass. -
    Now is the Year's soft youth; - yet me, alas!
    Cheers not as it was wont; - impending woes
Weigh on my heart; - the joys, that once were mine,
    Spring leads not back; - and those that yet remain
    Fade while she blooms. - Each hour more lovely shine
Her crystal beams, and feed her floral Train;
    But ah with pale, and waning fires, decline
    Those eyes, whose light my filial hopes sustain.

Anna Seward

Sonnet LXXXIX. Subject Continued.

Yon late but gleaming Moon, in hoary light
    Shines out unveil'd, and on the cloud's dark fleece
    Rests; - but her strengthen'd beams appear to increase
    The wild disorder of this troubled Night.
Redoubling Echos seem yet more to excite
    The roaring Winds and Waters! - Ah! why cease
    Resolves, that promis'd everlasting peace,
    And drew my steps to this incumbent height?
I wish! - I shudder! - stretch my longing arms
    O'er the steep cliff! - My swelling spirits brave
    The leap, that quiets all these dire alarms,
And floats me tossing on the stormy wave!
    But Oh! what roots my feet? - what spells, what charms
    The daring purpose of my Soul enslave?

Anna Seward