The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe with his letters and journals, and his life, by his son. In eight volumes |
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| III, IV, V. |
| VI, VII. |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
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| XIII. |
| XIV. |
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| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
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| XXII. |
 | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe |  |
The vision fled, the happy mother rose,
Kiss'd the fair infant, smiled at all her foes,
And Flattery made her name:—her reign began:
Her own dear sex she ruled, then vanquish'd man;
A smiling friend, to every class she spoke,
Assumed their manners, and their habits took;
Her, for her humble mien, the modest loved;
Her cheerful looks the light and gay approved;
The just beheld her, firm; the valiant, brave;
Her mirth the free, her silence pleased the grave;
Zeal heard her voice, and, as he preach'd aloud,
Well-pleased he caught her whispers from the crowd
(Those whispers, soothing-sweet to every ear,
Which some refuse to pay, but none to hear):
Shame fled her presence; at her gentle strain,
Care softly smiled, and guilt forgot its pain;
The wretched thought, the happy found, her true,
The learn'd confess'd that she their merits knew;
The rich—could they a constant friend condemn?
The poor believed—for who should flatter them?
Kiss'd the fair infant, smiled at all her foes,
And Flattery made her name:—her reign began:
Her own dear sex she ruled, then vanquish'd man;
A smiling friend, to every class she spoke,
Assumed their manners, and their habits took;
Her, for her humble mien, the modest loved;
Her cheerful looks the light and gay approved;
The just beheld her, firm; the valiant, brave;
Her mirth the free, her silence pleased the grave;
Zeal heard her voice, and, as he preach'd aloud,
Well-pleased he caught her whispers from the crowd
(Those whispers, soothing-sweet to every ear,
Which some refuse to pay, but none to hear):
Shame fled her presence; at her gentle strain,
Care softly smiled, and guilt forgot its pain;
The wretched thought, the happy found, her true,
The learn'd confess'd that she their merits knew;
252
The poor believed—for who should flatter them?
| The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe | |