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The Poetical Works of Anna Seward

With Extracts from her Literary Correspondence. Edited by Walter Scott ... In Three Volumes
Seward, Anna (1742-1809)

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VOL. I.
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VOL. II.
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VOL. III.
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INSCRIPTIONS.
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INSCRIPTIONS,
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 I. 
SONNET I.
 II. 
SONNET II.
 III. 
SONNET III. WRITTEN AT BUXTON IN A RAINY SEASON.
 IV. 
SONNET IV. TO HONORA SNEYD,
 V. 
SONNET V. TO A FRIEND, WHO THINKS SENSIBILITY A MISFORTUNE.
 VI. 
SONNET VI. WRITTEN AT LICHFIELD,
 VII. 
SONNET VII.
 VIII. 
SONNET VIII.
 IX. 
SONNET IX.
 X. 
SONNET X. TO HONORA SNEYD.
 XI. 
SONNET XI.
 XII. 
SONNET XII.
 XIII. 
SONNET XIII.
 XIV. 
SONNET XIV.
 XV. 
SONNET XV. WRITTEN ON RISING GROUND NEAR LICHFIELD.
 XVI. 
SONNET XVI. TRANSLATED FROM BOILEAU.
 XVII. 
SONNET XVII.
 XVIII. 
SONNET XVIII. AN EVENING IN NOVEMBER,
 XIX. 
SONNET XIX. TO ---
 XX. 
SONNET XX. ON READING A DESCRIPTION OF POPE'S CARDENS AT TWICKENHAM.
 XXI. 
SONNET XXI.
 XXII. 
SONNET XXII. SUBJECT CONTINUED.
 XXIII. 
SONNET XXIII. TO MISS E.S.
 XXIV. 
SONNET XXIV.
 XXV. 
SONNET XXV. PETRARCH to VAUCLUSE.
 XXVI. 
SONNET XXVI.
 XXVII. 
SONNET XXVII.
 XXVIII. 
SONNET XXVIII.
 XXIX. 
SONNET XXIX. SUBJECT CONTINUED.
 XXX. 
SONNET XXX.
 XXXI. 
SONNET XXXI. TO THE DEPARTING SPIRIT OF AN ALIENATED FRIEND.
 XXXII. 
SONNET XXXII. SUBJECT OF THE PRECEDING SONNET CONTINUED.
 XXXIII. 
SONNET XXXIII.
 XXXIV. 
SONNET XXXIV.
 XXXV. 
SONNET XXXV. SPRING.
 XXXVI. 
SONNET XXXVI. SUMMER.
 XXXVII. 
SONNET XXXVII. AUTUMN.
 XXXVIII. 
SONNET XXXVIII. WINTER.
 XXXIX. 
SONNET XXXIX. WINTER EVENING.
 XL. 
SONNET XL. DECEMBER MORNING.
 XLI. 
SONNET XLI. INVITATION TO A FRIEND.
 XLII. 
SONNET XLII.
 XLIII. 
SONNET XLIII.
 XLIV. 
SONNET XLIV.
 XLV. 
SONNET XLV.
 XLVI. 
SONNET XLVI.
 XLVII. 
SONNET XLVII. ON MR SARGENT'S DRAMATIC POEM, THE MINE.
 XLVIII. 
SONNET XLVIII.
 XLIX. 
SONNET XLIX.
 L. 
SONNET L.
 LI. 
SONNET LI. TO SYLVIA,
 LII. 
SONNET LII.
 LIII. 
SONNET LIII. WRITTEN IN THE SPRING 1785 ON THE DEATH OF THE POET LAUREAT.
 LIV. 
SONNET LIV. A PERSIAN KING TO HIS SON.
 LV. 
SONNET LV. ON THE QUICK TRANSITION FROM WINTER TO SUMMER, IN THE YEAR 1785.
 LVI. 
SONNET LVI. TO A TIMID YOUNG LADY,
 LVII. 
SONNET LVII. WRITTEN THE NIGHT PRECEDING THE FUNERAL OF MRS CHARLES BUCKERIDGE.
 LVIII. 
SONNET LVIII.
 LIX. 
SONNET LIX. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY MARIANNE CARNEGIE,
 LX. 
SONNET LX.
 LXI. 
SONNET LXI. TO MR HENRY CARY,
 LXII. 
SONNET LXII.
 LXIII. 
SONNET LXIII. TO COLEBROOKE DALE.
 LXIV. 
SONNET LXIV. TO MR HENRY CARY,
 LXV. 
SONNET LXV. TO THE SAME.
 LXVI. 
SONNET LXVI.
 LXVII. 
SONNET LXVII.
 LXVIII. 
SONNET LXVIII.
 LXIX. 
SONNET LXIX. TO A YOUNG LADY,
 LXX. 
SONNET LXX.
 LXXI. 
SONNET LXXI.
 LXXII. 
SONNET LXXII.
 LXXIII. 
SONNET LXXIII.
 LXXIV. 
SONNET LXXIV.
 LXXV. 
SONNET LXXV.
 LXXVI. 
SONNET LXXVI. THE CRITICS OF DR JOHNSON'S SCHOOL.
 LXXVII. 
SONNET LXXVII.
 LXXVIII. 
SONNET LXXVIII.
 LXXIX. 
SONNET LXXIX.
 LXXX. 
SONNET LXXX.
 LXXXI. 
SONNET LXXXI.
 LXXXII. 
SONNET LXXXII.
 LXXXIII. 
SONNET LXXXIII. ON CATANIA AND SYRACUSE
 LXXXIV. 
SONNET LXXXIV.
 LXXXV. 
SONNET LXXXV. TO MARCH.
 LXXXVI. 
SONNET LXXXVI. TO THE LAKE OF KILLARNEY.
 LXXXVII. 
SONNET LXXXVII. TO A YOUNG LADY,
 LXXXVIII. 
SONNET LXXXVIII. THE PROSPECT A FLOODED VALE.
 LXXXIX. 
SONNET LXXXIX. SUBJECT CONTINUED.
 XC. 
SONNET XC. SUBJECT CONTINUED.
 XCI. 
SONNET XCI.
 XCII. 
SONNET XCII.
 XCIII. 
SONNET XCIII.
 XCIV. 
SONNET XCIV.
 XCV. 
SONNET XCV.
 XCVI. 
SONNET XCVI.
 XCVII. 
SONNET XCVII. TO A COFFIN-LID.
 XCVIII. 
SONNET XCVIII.
 XCIX. 
SONNET XCIX. ON THE VIOLENT THUNDER STORMS.
 C. 
SONNET C. WRITTEN DECEMBER 1790.
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183

SONNET LXII.

Dim grows the vital flame in his dear breast
From whom my life I drew;—and thrice has Spring
Bloom'd; and fierce Winter thrice, on darken'd wing,
Howl'd o'er the gray, waste fields, since he possess'd
Or strength of frame, or intellect.—Now bring
Nor morn, nor eve, his cheerful steps, that press'd
Thy pavement, Lichfield, in the spirit bless'd
Of social gladness. They have failed, and cling
Feebly to the fix'd chair, no more to rise
Elastic!—Ah! my heart forebodes that soon
The Full of Days shall sleep;—nor Spring's soft sighs,
Nor Winter's blast awaken him!—Begun
The twilight!—Night is long!—but o'er his eyes
Life-weary slumbers weigh the pale lids down!
 

When this Sonnet was written, the subject of it had languished three years beneath repeated paralytic strokes, which had greatly enfeebled his limbs, and impaired his understanding. Contrary to all expectation he survived three more years, subject, through their progress, to the same frequent and dreadful attacks, though in their intervals he was apparntly free from pain or sickness.

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