John Codrington Bampfylde (Джон Кодрингтон Бэмпфилд)

Sonnet on Hearing the Torture was Suppressed

Hail to the sage divine of Milan's plains!
Whose labours reach'd the horrors of the cell,
Brought mercy down from Heav'n with man to dwell,
And curb'd the biting laws, and check'd the reins
Of justice too severe—and, lo! the chains,
At thy command, from off the convict fell,
The wheel appear'd no more, nor scaffold bell
Bade him prepare for more than mortal pains.
Oh! may thy voice pervade the nations round,
And monarchs of their subjects' woes remind;
So shall thy praise o'er earth and seas resound,
Nor shall thy own Italia boast a name
To be compar'd with thine in future fame,
So lov'd by all the good, so dear to human kind.

1. Sonnet. To the Evening
2. Sonnet. To Mr. Warton, on Reading His History of English Poetry
3. Sonnet. On Having Dined at Trinity College, Oxford
4. Sonnet. On a Stormy Sea - Prospect
5. Sonnet. On a Calm Sea - Prospect

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