SONNET [56] LVI. The Captive escaped in the Wilds of America. Addressed to the Honourable Mrs. O'Neill. Charlotte Smith (née Turner) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. N22357 Smith, Charlotte Turner, 1749-1806. Elegiac sonnets, and other poems. By Charlotte Smith. The first Worcester edition, from the sixth London edition, with additions. Printed at Worcester [Mass.] by Isaiah Thomas, sold by him in Worcester, and by said Thomas and Andrews in Boston 1795 p. 76. xix,[2],22-126,[2]p.,[5] leaves of plates: ill.; 15 cm. (12mo)

This e-text is part of the Works section of the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

XML created for the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

The text has been typographically modernized, but without any silent modernization of spelling, capitalization, or punctuation. The source of the text is given and all editorial interventions have been recorded in textual notes. Based on the electronic text originally produced by the TCP project, this text has been edited to conform to the recommendations found in Level 5 of the Best Practices for TEI in Libraries version 4.0.0.

Library of Congress Name Authority File (LCNAF) text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center; text-align: right; text-align: left; display: inline font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;
SONNET [ 56 ] LVI. The Captive escaped in the Wilds of America . Addressed to the Honourable Mrs. O'Neill . IF by his torturing , savage foes untrac'd , The breathless Captive gain some trackless glade , Yet hears the warwhoop howl along the waste , And dreads the reptile monsters of the shade ; The giant reeds that murmur round the flood , Seem to conceal some hideous form beneath ; And every hollow blast that shakes the wood , Speaks to his trembling heart , of woe and death . With horror fraught , and desolate dismay , On such a wanderer falls the starless night ; But if , far streaming , a propitious ray Leads to some amicable fort his sight , He hails the beam benign that guides his way , As I , my Harriet , bless thy friendship's cheering light .