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Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 75. He found her not;—yet much the Poet found


He found her not;—yet much the Poet found,
    To swell Imagination's golden store,
    On Arno's bank, and on that bloomy shore,
    Warbling Parthenope; in the wide bound,
Where Rome's forlorn Campania stretches round
    Her ruin'd towers and temples;—classic lore
    Breathing sublimer spirit from the power
    Of local consciousness.—Thrice happy wound,
Given by his sleeping graces, as the Fair
    “Hung over them enamour'd,” the desire
    Thy fond result inspir'd, that wing'd him there,
Where breath'd each Roman and each Tuscan Lyre,
    Might haply fan the emulative flame,
    That rose o'er Dante's song, and rival'd Maro's fame.

Anna Seward's other poems:
  1. Sonnet 99. Remorseless Winter! in thy iron reign
  2. Sonnet 53. The knell of Whitehead tolls!—his cares are past
  3. Sonnet 11. How sweet to rove, from summer sun-beams veil'd
  4. Sonnet 24. Behold the Day an image of the Year!
  5. Sonnet 69. Time, and thy charms, thou fanciest will redeem

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