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Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)


Sonnet 16. Apollo, at his crowded altars, tir'd


      TRANSLATED FROM BOILEAU.

Apollo, at his crowded altars, tir'd
    Of Votaries, who for trite ideas thrown
    Into loose verse, assume, in lofty tone,
    The Poet's name, untaught, and uninspir'd,
Indignant struck the Lyre.—Straight it acquir'd
    New powers, and complicate. Then first was known
    The rigorous Sonnet, to be fram'd alone
    By duteous Bards, or by just Taste admir'd.—
Go, energetic Sonnet, go, he cried,
    And be the test of skill!—For rhymes that flow
    Regardless of thy rules, their destin'd guide,
Yet take thy name, ah! let the boasters know
    That with strict sway my jealous laws preside,
    While I no wreaths on rebel verse bestow.



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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