Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 32. Behold him now his genuine colours wear

   SUBJECT OF THE PRECEDING SONNET CONTINUED.

Behold him now his genuine colours wear,
    That specious False-One, by whose cruel wiles
    I lost thy amity; saw thy dear smiles
    Eclips'd; those smiles, that us'd my heart to cheer,
Wak'd by thy grateful sense of many a year
    When rose thy youth, by Friendship's pleasing toils
    Cultur'd;—but DYING!—O! for ever fade
    The angry fires.—Each thought, that might upbraid
Thy broken faith, which yet my soul deplores,
    Now as eternally is past and gone
    As are the interesting, the happy hours,
Days, years, we shar'd together. They are flown!
    Yet long must I lament thy hapless doom,
    Thy lavish'd life and early-hasten'd tomb.

1. Sonnet 75. He found her not;—yet much the Poet found
2. Sonnet 78. Sophia tempts me to her social walls
3. Sonnet 44. Rapt Contemplation, bring thy waking dreams
4. Sonnet 1. When Life's realities the Soul perceives
5. Sonnet 90. My hour is not yet come!—these burning eyes

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