Sonnet VII
Chill'd by unkind Honora's alter'd eye,“Why droops my heart with fruitless woes forlorn,”Thankless for much of good?--what thousands, bornTo ceaseless toil beneath this wintry sky,Or to brave deathful Oceans surging high,Or fell Disease's fever'd rage to mourn,How blest to them wou'd seem my destiny!How dear the comforts my rash sorrows scorn!--Affection is repaid by causeless hate!A plighted love is chang'd to cold disdain!Yet suffer not thy wrongs to shroud thy fate,But turn, my Soul, to blessings which remain;And let this truth the wise resolve create,
Words in this poem
- unkind a.
- Having no race or kindred; childless. [See Kin kindred.]
- fruitless a.
- Lacking, or not bearing, fruit; barren; destitute of offspring; as, a fruitless tree or shrub; a fruitless marriage.
- forlorn a.
- Deserted abandoned; lost. [OE., p.p. of forlesen to lose utterly, AS. forleósan (p.p. forloren); pref. for- + leósan (in comp.) to lose; cf. D. verliezen to lose, G. verlieren, Sw. förlor]
- thankless a.
- Not acknowledging favors; not expressing thankfulness; unthankful; ungrateful.
- ceaseless a.
- Without pause or end; incessant.
- wintry a.
- Suitable to winter; resembling winter, or what belongs to winter; brumal; hyemal; cold; stormy; wintery. [AS. wintrig.]
- deathful a.
- Full of death or slaughter; murderous; destructive; bloody.
- causeless a.
- 1. Self-originating; uncreated.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Sonnet VII is in the public domain. This text is taken from Original sonnets on various subjects; and odes paraphrased from Horace, Project Gutenberg ebook #27663; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Anna Seward, Sonnet VII, in Original Sonnets on Various Subjects (1799), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #27663, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/seward-sonnets/sonnet-vii.html, id L20461.
Form and metre
Sonnet VII is 13 lines in a single stanza. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 94%).
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABBAAB-BCDCDC eyeA · forlornB · bornB · skyA · highA · mournB · destiny · scornB · hateC · disdainD · fateC · remainD · createC
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Chill'd by unkind Honora's alter'd eye, | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘/˘· |
| “Why droops my heart with fruitless woes forlorn,” | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| Thankless for much of good?--what thousands, born | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| To ceaseless toil beneath this wintry sky, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Or to brave deathful Oceans surging high, | 10 | ···/˘/˘/˘· |
| Or fell Disease's fever'd rage to mourn, | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘··· |
| How blest to them wou'd seem my destiny! | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| How dear the comforts my rash sorrows scorn!-- | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Affection is repaid by causeless hate! | 10 | ˘/˘·˘/·/˘· |
| A plighted love is chang'd to cold disdain! | 10 | ·/˘·····˘/ |
| Yet suffer not thy wrongs to shroud thy fate, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| But turn, my Soul, to blessings which remain; | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| And let this truth the wise resolve create, | 10 | ······˘/˘/ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.