Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
William Wordsworth. 17701850534. The Sonnet ii
SCORN not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frown’d, | |
Mindless of its just honours; with this key | |
Shakespeare unlock’d his heart; the melody | |
Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch’s wound; | |
A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound; | 5 |
With it Camöens sooth’d an exile’s grief; | |
The Sonnet glitter’d a gay myrtle leaf | |
Amid the cypress with which Dante crown’d | |
His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp, | |
It cheer’d mild Spenser, call’d from Faery-land | 10 |
To struggle through dark ways; and when a damp | |
Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand | |
The Thing became a trumpet; whence he blew | |
Soul-animating strains—alas, too few! |