Sonnet XVIII. An Evening In November, Which Had Been Stormy, Gradually Clearing Up, In A Mountainous Country.

Ceas'd is the rain; but heavy drops yet fall
    From the drench'd roof; - yet murmurs the sunk wind
    Round the dim hills; can yet a passage find
    Whistling thro' yon cleft rock, and ruin'd wall.
The swoln and angry torrents heard, appal,
    Tho' distant. - A few stars, emerging kind,
    Shed their green, trembling beams. - With lustre small,
    The moon, her swiftly-passing clouds behind,
Glides o'er that shaded hill. - Now blasts remove
    The shadowing clouds, and on the mountain's brow,
    Full-orb'd, she shines. - Half sunk within its cove
Heaves the lone boat, with gulphing sound; - and lo!
    Bright rolls the settling lake, and brimming rove
    The vale's blue rills, and glitter as they flow.

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 XCI.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet XXI.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Odes From Horace. - To Sallust. Book The Second, Ode The Second.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet LVIII.

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 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

Sonnet III. Written At Buxton In A Rainy Season.

From these wild heights, where oft the mists descend
    In rains, that shroud the sun, and chill the gale,
    Each transient, gleaming interval we hail,
    And rove the naked vallies, and extend
Our gaze around, where yon vast mountains blend
    With billowy clouds, that o'er their summits sail;
    Pondering, how little Nature's charms befriend
    The barren scene, monotonous, and pale.
Yet solemn when the darkening shadows fleet
    Successive o'er the wide and silent hills,
    Gilded by watry sun-beams, then we meet
Peculiar pomp of vision. Fancy thrills,
    And owns there is no scene so rude and bare,
    But Nature sheds or grace or grandeur there.

Anna Seward

Sonnet LXXII. Written In The Rainy Summer Of 1789.

Ah, hapless JUNE! circles yon lunar Sphere
    Yet the dim Halo? whose cold powers ordain
    Long o'er these vales shou'd sweep, in misty train,
    The pale continuous showers, that sullying smear
Thy radiant lilies, towering on the plain;
    Bend low, with rivel'd leaves of canker'd stain,
    Thy drench'd and heavy rose. - Yet pledg'd and dear
    Fair Hope still holds the promise of the Year;
Suspends her anchor on the silver horn
    Of the next wexing Orb, tho', JUNE, thy Day,
    Robb'd of its golden eve, and rosy morn,
And gloomy as the Winter's rigid sway,
    Leads sunless, lingering, disappointing Hours
    Thro' the song-silent glades and dropping bowers.

Anna Seward

Sonnet XCIX. On The Violent Thunder Storms.

DECEMBER 1790.


Remorseless WINTER! in thy iron reign
    Comes the loud whirlwind, on thy pinion borne;
    The long long night, - the tardy, leaden morn;
    The grey frost, riv'ling lane, and hill, and plain;
Chill silent snows, and heavy, pattering rain.
    These are thy known allies; - and Life forlorn,
    Yet patient, droops, nor breathes repinings vain;
    But now, Usurper, thou hast madly torn
From Summer's hand his stores of angry sway;
    His rattling thunders with thy winds unite,
    On thy pale snows those livid lightnings play,
That pour their deathful splendors o'er his night,
    To poise the pleasures of his golden day,
    Soft gales, blue skies, and long-protracted light.

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