Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 16. Apollo, at his crowded altars, tir'd

      TRANSLATED FROM BOILEAU.

Apollo, at his crowded altars, tir'd
    Of Votaries, who for trite ideas thrown
    Into loose verse, assume, in lofty tone,
    The Poet's name, untaught, and uninspir'd,
Indignant struck the Lyre.—Straight it acquir'd
    New powers, and complicate. Then first was known
    The rigorous Sonnet, to be fram'd alone
    By duteous Bards, or by just Taste admir'd.—
Go, energetic Sonnet, go, he cried,
    And be the test of skill!—For rhymes that flow
    Regardless of thy rules, their destin'd guide,
Yet take thy name, ah! let the boasters know
    That with strict sway my jealous laws preside,
    While I no wreaths on rebel verse bestow.

1. Sonnet 69. Time, and thy charms, thou fanciest will redeem
2. Sonnet 13. Thou child of Night, and Silence, balmy Sleep
3. Sonnet 42. Lo! the Year's final Day!—Nature performs
4. Sonnet 8. Short is the time the oldest Being lives
5. Sonnet 52. Long has the pall of Midnight quench'd the scene

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