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

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 XXXIV.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet LXXVI. The Critics Of Doctor Johnson's School[1].

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet LXXIV.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Odes From Horace. - To Liguria. Book The Fourth, Ode The Tenth.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

English

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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

Sonnet XXXIII.

Last night her Form the hours of slumber bless'd
    Whose eyes illumin'd all my youthful years. -
    Spirit of dreams, at thy command appears
    Each airy Shape, that visiting our rest,
Dismays, perplexes, or delights the breast.
    My pensive heart this kind indulgence cheers;
    Bliss, in no waking moment now possess'd,
    Bliss, ask'd of thee with Memory's thrilling tears,
Nightly I cry, how oft, alas! in vain,
    Give, by thy powers, that airy Shapes controul,
    HONORA to my visions! - ah! ordain
Her beauteous lip may wear the smile that stole,
    In years long fled, the sting from every pain!
    Show her sweet face, ah show it to my soul!

June 1780.

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 XCVI.

The breathing freshness of the shining Morn,
    Whose beams glance yellow on the distant fields,
    A sweet, unutterable pleasure yields
    To my dejected sense, that turns with scorn
From the light joys of Dissipation born.
    Sacred Remembrance all my bosom shields
    Against each glittering lance she gaily wields,
    Warring with fond Regrets, that silent mourn
The Heart's dear comforts lost. - But, NATURE, thou,
    Thou art resistless still; - and yet I ween
    Thy present balmy gales, and vernal blow,
To MEMORY owe the magic of their scene;
    For with such fragrant breath, such orient rays,
    Shone the soft mornings of my youthful days.

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 XCV.

On the damp margin of the sea-beat shore
    Lonely at eve to wander; - or reclin'd
    Beneath a rock, what time the rising wind
    Mourns o'er the waters, and, with solemn roar,
Vast billows into caverns surging pour,
    And back recede alternate; while combin'd
    Loud shriek the sea-fowls, harbingers assign'd,
    Clamorous and fearful, of the stormy hour;
To listen with deep thought those awful sounds;
    Gaze on the boiling, the tumultuous waste,
    Or promontory rude, or craggy mounds
Staying the furious main, delight has cast
    O'er my rapt spirit, and my thrilling heart,
    Dear as the softer joys green vales impart.

Anna Seward