Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 25. Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!

       PETRARCH to VAUCLUSE.

Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
    Where morn, and eve, my soul's fair Idol stray'd,
    While all your winds, that murmur'd thro' the glade,
    Stole her sweet breath; yet, yet your paths retain
Prints of her step, by fount, whose floods remain
    In depth unfathom'd; 'mid the rocks, that shade,
    With cavern'd arch, their sleep.—Ye streams, that play'd
    Around her limbs in Summer's ardent reign,
The soft resplendence of those azure eyes
    Ting'd ye with living light.—The envied claim
    These blest distinctions give, my lyre, my sighs,
My songs record; and, from their Poet's flame,
    Bid this wild Vale, its Rocks, and Streams arise,
    Associates still of their bright Mistress' fame.

1. Sonnet 78. Sophia tempts me to her social walls
2. Sonnet 89. Yon late but gleaming Moon, in hoary light
3. Sonnet 17. Ah! why have I indulg'd my dazzled sight
4. Sonnet 68. Well it becomes thee, Britain, to avow
5. Sonnet 36. Now on hills, rocks, and streams, and vales, and plains

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