Sonnet LXXXIII. On Catania And Syracuse Swallowed Up By Earthquake.
FROM THE ITALIAN OF FILACAJA. Here, from laborious Art, proud TOWNS, ye rose! Here, in an instant, sunk! - nor ought remains Of all ye were! - on the wide, lonely plains Not e'en a stone, that might these words disclose, "Here stood CATANIA;" - or whose surface shows That this was SYRACUSE: - but louring reigns A trackless DESOLATION. - Dim Domains! Pale, mournful Strand! how oft, with anxious throes, Seek I sad relics, which no spot supplies! - A SILENCE - a fix'd HORROR sears my soul, Arrests my foot! - Dread DOOM of human crimes, What art thou? - Ye o'erwhelmed Cities, rise! That your terrific skeletons may scowl Portentous warning to succeeding Times!
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"FROM THE ITALIAN OF FILACAJA...."
"Sonnet LXXXIII. On Catania And Syracuse Swallowed Up By Earthquake." is a quintessential example of Anna Seward's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...