Sonnet LXXXVIII. The Prospect A Flooded Vale.

A poem by Anna Seward

The three following Sonnets are written in the character of Werter; the sentiments and images chiefly, but not intirely taken from one of his letters.

Up this bleak Hill, in wintry Night's dread hour,
With mind congenial to the scene, I come!
To see my Valley in the lunar gloom,
To see it whelm'd. - Amid the cloudy lour
Gleams the cold Moon; - and shows the ruthless power
Of yon swoln Floods, that white with turbid foam
Roll o'er the fields; - and, billowy as they roam,
Against the bushes beat! - A Vale no more,
A troubled Sea, toss'd by the furious Wind! -
Alas! the wild and angry Waves efface
Pathway, and hedge, and bank, and stile! - I find
But one wide waste of waters! - In controul
Thus dire, to tides of Misery and Disgrace
Love opes the flood-gates of my struggling Soul.

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