Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 22. You, whose dull spirits feel not the fine glow

    SUBJECT CONTINUED.

You, whose dull spirits feel not the fine glow
    Enthusiasm breathes, no more of light
    Perceive ye in rapt Poesy, tho' bright
    In Fancy's richest colouring, than can flow
From jewel'd treasures in the central night
    Of their deep caves.—You have no Sun to show
    Their inborn radiance pure.—Go, Snarlers, go;
    Nor your defects of feeling, and of sight,
To charge upon the Poet thus presume,
    Ye lightless minds, whate'er of title proud,
    Scholar, or Sage, or Critic, ye assume,
Arraigning his high claims with censure loud,
    Or sickly scorn; yours, yours is all the cloud,
    Gems cannot sparkle in the midnight Gloom.

1. Sonnet 75. He found her not;—yet much the Poet found
2. Sonnet 78. Sophia tempts me to her social walls
3. Sonnet 85. March, tho' the Hours of promise with bright ray
4. Sonnet 44. Rapt Contemplation, bring thy waking dreams
5. Sonnet 20. Ah! might I range each hallow'd bower and glade

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