ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
Anonymous, "To Miss Seward" Westminster Magazine 10 (September 1782) 494.
1766: P. Adey
1781: Samuel Johnson of Shrewsbury
1781: William Hayley
1782: Rev. William Bagshaw Stevens
1783: Helen Maria Williams
1783: Mary Scott
1783: G. I. L.
1783: M. O. S.
1784: William Hayley
1785: Thomas Sedgwick Whalley
1785: D. C.
1785: Rev. Robert Greville
1786: William Hayley
1786: S. A.
1786: Rev. William Bagshaw Stevens
1786: M. C. S.
1787: Richard Porson
1787: Francis Noel Clarke Mundy
1788: Joseph Weston
1788: Edward Pye-Waters
1788: Thomas Lister
1788: Rev. Richard Polwhele
1789: William Newton, the Peak Minstrel
1789: John Williams
1790 ca.: George Hardinge
1790: Thomas Trotter
1790: Susanna Pearson
1791: Jane West
1791: J. N.
1792: John Bennet
1793: Rev. George Butt
1796: William Bagshaw Stevens
1796: Robert Farren Cheetham
1796: Rev. Henry Francis Cary
1797: Thomas Park
1797: David Samwell
1798: Edward Gardner
1799: Robert Fellows
1799: Francis Noel Clarke Mundy
1799: W. Woolston
1799: Christopher Smyth
1800 ca.: Dr. Erasmus Darwin
1801: Alexander Thomson
1802: Henry Kirke White
1802: Margaret Holford
1802: Robert Farren Cheetham
1804: W. Fitzthomas
1805: Capel Lofft
1807: John Murray
1808: W. M. T.
1809: H. Burrington
1811: Bp. Thomas Percy
1811: Dr. Robert Anderson
1811: Mary Russell Mitford
1811: Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe
1811: Walter Savage Landor
1811: Jane West
1811: Rev. Richard Polwhele
1811: Sir Walter Scott
1812: Hannah More
1812 ca.: George Hardinge
1812: Charles Caleb Colton
1814: Melesina Chenevix Trench
1821: Lord Byron
1827: Alexander Dyce
1828: Leigh Hunt
1830: William Wordsworth
1833: Robert Southey
1834: Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges
1851: Dr. David Macbeth Moir
1855: Sarah Josepha Hale
When long the sun, life's vast exhaustless source,
Wrapp'd in thick clouds, has held his wonted course;
If from a chasm his glorious face he shews,
What sudden joy thro' drooping nature glows!
The feather'd choir, touch'd by the transient gleam,
Pour forth a-fresh their love-begotten theme
The flowers no longer droop, new beauties dawn,
And renovated fragrance scents the lawn:
So oft, when care's lead hand weighs on the mind,
Or woe we meet, where joy we thought to find;
Or wasp domestic, life's detested bane,
Darts on the soul her thousand stings of pain;
If we, by chance or fortune's fickle will,
Great arbitress of all our good or ill!
But for a moment view thy beauteous face:
Such is its power, such its enchanting grace;
Expell'd fell care, expell'd the shafts of pain,
We breathe with sweet tranquility again!—
If with thy choice surrounding friends we share,
Thy charming converse, ev'ry graceful care,
Unheeded time shoots rapid on his way,
And to an instant shrinks the longest day!—
But do'st thou to the page poetic turn?
To hear thee we with mute impatience burn!—
Thou read'st — Ye gods! what charms expressive rise
Though all thy form, flash in thy speaking eyes:—
Now sympathy her magic rod applies!—
We laugh, weep, breathe involuntary sighs;
Frown with resentment, trembling fear we move,
Flame with revenge, or glow with gentle love:
By this main-spring, like mere machines we go,
And passive it, we motion cease to know!—
But do we, Mira, list thy matchless muse?
What agitations o'er our soul diffuse!—
O gallant Cooke, 'tis thou inspir'st her lays;
Most worthy of thy country's, virtue's praise;
Round the vast world, like thee shall steer thy fame:
In Seward's verse immortal be thy name;
There we thy toils, thy wond'rous deeds attend,
Behold thy hapless fall; deplore the day,
And with our tears bedew her Cooke's Morai!
Was great Achilles, on Troy's bloody plains,
Or sung in sweeter, or in nobler strains?
Round fallen Hector, louder grief display,
Did Grecian muse than her's round Cooke's Morai?—
The gen'rous Andre, all-accomplish'd youth;
Fair son of genius, innocence, and truth;
Most constant lover, yet by hapless love,
A wretched exile from his country drove;
Amidst the din of war how great he rose,
His country's glory, terror of her foes;
His ignominious fall now swell her lays;
Who would not die to win such deathless praise?—
Behold the beauteous Miller now arise,
Fast by her vase! — joy sparkles in all eyes;
She merit crowns, gives comfort to distress,
And radiant spreads around her happiness;
Where's then the iron heart which does not sigh,
In Seward's plaintive song to see her die?—
What eye refrains to drop the heart-felt tear,
While bending o'er her Miller's early bier?—
Such inspiration thy sweet lyre imparts,
It instant tunes to unison our hearts;
Through all our nerves its soft vibrations move,
With thee we smile, we sigh, weep, hate, and love!
Quaff friendship's nectar, life's divinest zest,
And blessing thee, confess ourselves most blest.
Derby, Sept. 17, 1782.