Original Sonnets on Various Subjects; And Odes Paraphrased from Horace
Original Sonnets on Various Subjects; And Odes Paraphrased from Horace
Anna Seward, celebrated in her lifetime as the Swan of Lichfield, was among the most accomplished practitioners of the English sonnet in the Georgian era, and this collection proves why. Written when the form had fallen out of fashion, these poems serve as both artistic achievement and passionate defense of the sonnet's viability in English. Seward's preface directly addresses critics who claimed the form was unsuitable for the language, arguing with intellectual ferocity for its capacity to hold profound sentiment within its formal constraints. The sonnets that follow move through landscapes of imagination, memory, and emotional longing: they explore the ache between present pain and future hope, celebrate nature's transient beauty, and examine love's complexities. Alongside these original works, Seward offers paraphrases of Horace's odes, demonstrating her mastery of classical tradition and her ability to render Roman lyricism for an English audience. This is poetry that insists on the sonnet's relevance when many believed it dead. For readers curious about the form's revival, the emergence of significant female voices in 18th-century literature, or the ongoing dialogue between classical and English poetry, Seward's collection remains a vital window into a formidable mind.
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“When Death, or adverse Fortune's ruthless gale,Tears our best hopes away, the wounded HeartExhausted, leans on all that can impartThe charm of Sympathy; her mutual wailHow soothing! never can her warm tears failTo balm our bleeding grief's severest smart;Nor wholly vain feign'd Pity's solemn art,Tho' we should penetrate her sable veil.Concern, e'en known to be assum'd, our painsRespecting, kinder welcome far acquiresThan cold Neglect, or Mirth that Grief profanes.Thus each faint Glow-worm of the Night conspires,Gleaming along the moss'd and darken'd lanes,To cheer the Gloom with her unreal fires.””
— Anna Seward
“Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes, The Parian Statue, bending o'er the Urn, The dark robe floating, the dejection worn On the dropt eye, and lip no smile illumes; Not all this pomp of sorrow, that presumes It pays Affection's debt, is due concern To the FOR EVER ABSENT, tho' it mournFashion's allotted time. If Time consumes, While Life is ours, the precious vestal-flame Memory shou'd hourly feed;”
— Anna Seward









