Sonnet XVII.

Ah! why have I indulg'd my dazzled sight
    With scenes in Hope's delusive mirror shown?
    Scenes, that too seldom human Life has known
    In kind accomplishment; - but O! how bright
The rays, that gilded them with varied light
    Alternate! oft swift flashing on the boon
    That might at FAME's immortal shrine be won;
    Then shining soft on tender LOVE's delight. -
Now, with stern hand, FATE draws the sable veil
    O'er the frail glass! - HOPE, as she turns away,
    The darken'd crystal drops. - - Heavy and pale,
Rain-pouring clouds quench all the darts of day;
    Low mourns the wind along the gloomy dale,
    And tolls the Death-bell in the pausing gale.

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 XCVI.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet LXXIX.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet XX. On Reading A Description Of Pope's Gardens At Twickenham.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet LI. To Sylvia On Her Approaching Nuptials.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

English

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Sonnet II.

The Future, and its gifts, alone we prize,
    Few joys the Present brings, and those alloy'd;
    Th' expected fulness leaves an aching void;
    But HOPE stands by, and lifts her sunny eyes
That gild the days to come. - She still relies
    The Phantom HAPPINESS not thus shall glide
    Always from life. - Alas! - yet ill betide
    Austere Experience, when she coldly tries
In distant roses to discern the thorn!
    Ah! is it wise to anticipate our pain?
    Arriv'd, it then is soon enough to mourn.
Nor call the dear Consoler false and vain,
    When yet again, shining through april-tears,
    Those fair enlight'ning eyes beam on advancing Years.

Anna Seward

Sonnet I.

When Life's realities the Soul perceives
    Vain, dull, perchance corrosive, if she glows
    With rising energy, and open throws
    The golden gates of Genius, she achieves
His fairy clime delighted, and receives
    In those gay paths, deck'd with the thornless rose,
    Blest compensation. - Lo! with alter'd brows
    Lours the false World, and the fine Spirit grieves;
No more young Hope tints with her light and bloom
    The darkening Scene. - Then to ourselves we say,
    Come, bright IMAGINATION, come! relume
Thy orient lamp; with recompensing ray
    Shine on the Mind, and pierce its gathering gloom
    With all the fires of intellectual Day!

Anna Seward

Sonnet LXXVII.

O! hast thou seen a vernal Morning bright
    Gem every bank and trembling leaf with dews,
    Tinging the green fields with her amber hues,
    Changing the leaden streams to lines of light?
Then seen dull Clouds, that shed untimely night,
    Roll envious on, and every ray suffuse,
    Till the chill'd Scenes their early beauty lose,
    And faint, and colourless, no more invite
The glistening gaze of Joy? - 'Twas emblem just
    Of my youth's sun, on which deep shadows fell,
    Spread from the PALL OF FRIENDS; and Grief's loud gust
Resistless, oft wou'd wasted tears compel:
    Yet let me hope, that on my darken'd days
    Science, and pious Trust, may shed pervading rays.

Anna Seward

Sonnet XLVIII.

Now young-ey'd Spring, on gentle breezes borne,
    'Mid the deep woodlands, hills, and vales, and bowers,
    Unfolds her leaves, her blossoms, and her flowers,
    Pouring their soft luxuriance on the morn.
O! how unlike the wither'd, wan, forlorn,
    And limping Winter, that o'er russet moors,
    Grey ridgy fields, and ice-incrusted shores,
    Strays! - and commands his rising Winds to mourn.
Protracted Life, thou art ordain'd to wear
    A form like his; and, shou'd thy gifts be mine,
    I tremble lest a kindred influence drear
Steal on my mind; - but pious Hope benign,
    The Soul's bright day-spring, shall avert the fear,
    And gild Existence in her dim decline.

Anna Seward

Sonnet XXXIV.

When Death, or adverse Fortune's ruthless gale,
    Tears our best hopes away, the wounded Heart
    Exhausted, leans on all that can impart
    The charm of Sympathy; her mutual wail
How soothing! never can her warm tears fail
    To balm our bleeding grief's severest smart;
    Nor wholly vain feign'd Pity's solemn art,
    Tho' we should penetrate her sable veil.
Concern, e'en known to be assum'd, our pains
    Respecting, kinder welcome far acquires
    Than cold Neglect, or Mirth that Grief profanes.
Thus each faint Glow-worm of the Night conspires,
    Gleaming along the moss'd and darken'd lanes,
    To cheer the Gloom with her unreal fires.

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