Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 83. Here, from laborious Art, proud Towns, ye rose!

  ON CATANIA AND SYRACUSE
  SWALLOWED UP BY EARTHQUAKE.

  FROM THE ITALIAN OF FILACAJA.

Here, from laborious Art, proud Towns, ye rose!
    Here, in an instant, sunk!—nor ought remains
    Of all ye were!—on the wide, lonely plains
    Not e'en a stone, that might these words disclose,
“Here stood Catania;”—or whose surface shows
    That this was Syracuse:—but louring reigns
    A trackless DESOLATION.—Dim Domains!
    Pale, mournful Strand! how oft, with anxious throes,
Seek I sad relics, which no spot supplies!—
    A Silence—a fix'd Horror sears my soul,
    Arrests my foot!—Dread Doom of human crimes,
What art thou?—Ye o'erwhelmed Cities, rise!
    That your terrific skeletons may scowl
    Portentous warning to succeeding Times!

1. Sonnet 42. Lo! the Year's final Day!—Nature performs
2. Sonnet 8. Short is the time the oldest Being lives
3. Sonnet 52. Long has the pall of Midnight quench'd the scene
4. Sonnet 31. O, EVER DEAR! thy precious, vital powers
5. Sonnet 85. March, tho' the Hours of promise with bright ray

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