Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 50. In every breast Affection fires, there dwells

In every breast Affection fires, there dwells
    A secret consciousness to what degree
    They are themselves belov'd.—We hourly see
    Th' involuntary proof, that either quells,
Or ought to quell false hopes,—or sets us free
    From pain'd distrust;—but, O, the misery!
    Weak Self-Delusion timidly repels
    The lights obtrusive—shrinks from all that tells
Unwelcome truths, and vainly seeks repose
    For startled Fondness, in the opiate balm,
    Of kind profession, tho', perchance, it flows
To hush Complaint—O! in Belief's clear calm,
    Or 'mid the lurid clouds of Doubt, we find
    Love rise the Sun, or Comet of the Mind.

1. Sonnet 25. Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
2. Sonnet 41. Since dark December shrouds the transient day
3. Sonnet 2. The Future, and its gifts, alone we prize
4. Sonnet 71. While Summer Roses all their glory yield
5. Sonnet 80. As lightens the brown Hill to vivid green

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