Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 32. Behold him now his genuine colours wear

   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.

1. Sonnet 58. Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes
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 45. From Possibility's dim chaos sprung
5. Sonnet 52. Long has the pall of Midnight quench'd the scene

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