WYNDHAM! ’tis not thy blood, though pure it runs
Through a long line of glorious ancestry,
Percys and Seymours, Britain’s boasted sons,
Who trust the honours of their race to thee:
‘Tis not thy splendid domes, where science loves
To touch the canvass, and the bust to raise;
Thy rich domains, fair fields, and spreading groves;
‘Tis not all these the Muse delights to praise:
In birth, and wealth, and honours, great thou art!
But nobler in thy independent mind;
And in that liberal hand and feeling heart
Given thee by Heaven–a blessing to mankind!
Unworthy oft may titled fortune be;
A soul like thine–is true Nobility!
Sonnet Xviii. To The Earl Of Egremont
Did you enjoy the the artible “Sonnet Xviii. To The Earl Of Egremont” from Charlotte Smith on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply