Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 3. From these wild heights, where oft the mists descend

  WRITTEN AT BUXTON IN A RAINY SEASON.

From these wild heights, where oft the mists descend
    In rains, that shroud the sun, and chill the gale,
    Each transient, gleaming interval we hail,
    And rove the naked vallies, and extend
Our gaze around, where yon vast mountains blend
    With billowy clouds, that o'er their summits sail;
    Pondering, how little Nature's charms befriend
    The barren scene, monotonous, and pale.
Yet solemn when the darkening shadows fleet
    Successive o'er the wide and silent hills,
    Gilded by watry sun-beams, then we meet
Peculiar pomp of vision. Fancy thrills,
    And owns there is no scene so rude and bare,
    But Nature sheds or grace or grandeur there.

1. Sonnet 85. March, tho' the Hours of promise with bright ray
2. Sonnet 78. Sophia tempts me to her social walls
3. Sonnet 52. Long has the pall of Midnight quench'd the scene
4. Sonnet 20. Ah! might I range each hallow'd bower and glade
5. Sonnet 90. My hour is not yet come!—these burning eyes

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