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 90. My hour is not yet come!—these burning eyes
2. Sonnet 65. Marcellus, since the ardors of my strain
3. Sonnet 85. March, tho' the Hours of promise with bright ray
4. Sonnet 98. Since my griev'd mind some energy regains
5. Sonnet 50. In every breast Affection fires, there dwells

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1533

Последние стихотворения

To English version