Mary Robinson (Мэри Робинсон)

Sonnet 4. Why, When I Gaze

Why, when I gaze on Phaon’s beauteous eyes,
Why does each thought in wild disorder stray?
Why does each fainting faculty decay,
And my chill’d breast in throbbing tumults rise?
Mute, on the ground my Lyre neglected lies,
The Muse forgot, and lost the melting lay;
My down-cast looks, my faultering lips betray,
That stung by hopeless passion,--Sappho dies!
Now, on a bank of Cypress let me rest;
Come, tuneful maids, ye pupils of my care,
Come, with your dulcet numbers soothe my breast;
And, as the soft vibrations float on air,
Let pity waft my spirit to the blest,
To mock the barb’rous triumphs of despair!

1. Sonnet 40. On the Low Margin
2. Stanzas Written under an Oak in Windsor Forest
3. Male Fashions for 1799
4. Sonnet 41. Yes, I Will Go
5. Ode to Envy

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