Sonnet XXVIII.

O, GENIUS! does thy Sun-resembling beam
    To the internal eyes of Man display
    In clearer prospect, the momentous way
    That leads to peace? Do they not rather seem
Dazzled by lustres in continual stream,
    Till night they find in such excessive day?
    Art thou not prone, with too intense a ray,
    To gild the hope improbable, the dream
Of fancied good? - or bid the sigh upbraid
    Imaginary evils, and involve
    All real sorrow in a darker shade?
To fond credulity, to rash resolve
    Dost thou not prompt, till reason's sacred aid
    And fair discretion in thy fires dissolve?

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 LX.[1]

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet LIII. Written In The Spring 1785 On The Death Of The Poet Laureat.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet LXXXVI. To The Lake Of Killarney[1].

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Odes From Horace. - To Barine. Book The Second, Ode The Eighth.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

English

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Sonnet XXIX. Subject Continued.

If GENIUS has its danger, grief and pain,
    That Common-Sense escapes, yet who wou'd change
    The Powers, thro' Nature, and thro' Art that range,
    To keep the bounded, tho' more safe domain
Of moderate Intellect, where all we gain
    Is cold approvance? where the sweet, the strange,
    Soft, and sublime, in vivid interchange,
    Nor glad the spirit, nor enrich the brain.
Destructive shall we deem yon noon-tide blaze
    If transiently the eye, o'er-power'd, resign
    Distinct perception? - Shall we rather praise
The Moon's wan light? - with owlish choice incline
    That Common-Sense her lunar lamp shou'd raise
    Than that the solar fires of GENIUS shine?

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 L.

In every breast Affection fires, there dwells
    A secret consciousness to what degree
    They are themselves belov'd. - We hourly see
    Th' involuntary proof, that either quells,
Or ought to quell false hopes, - or sets us free
    From pain'd distrust; - but, O, the misery!
    Weak Self-Delusion timidly repels
    The lights obtrusive - shrinks from all that tells
Unwelcome truths, and vainly seeks repose
    For startled Fondness, in the opiate balm,
    Of kind profession, tho', perchance, it flows
To hush Complaint - O! in Belief's clear calm,
    Or 'mid the lurid clouds of Doubt, we find
    LOVE rise the Sun, or Comet of the Mind.

Anna Seward

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

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 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