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 | The poetical works of John Trumbull . |  |
Yet that we fairly may proceed,
We own that ladies sometimes read,
And grieve, that reading is confin'd
To books that poison all the mind;
Novels and plays, (where shines display'd
A world that nature never made,)
Which swell their hopes with airy fancies,
And amorous follies of romances;
Inspire with dreams the witless maiden
On flowery vales and fields Arcadian,
And contsant hearts no chance can sever,
And mortal loves, that last for ever.
We own that ladies sometimes read,
And grieve, that reading is confin'd
To books that poison all the mind;
Novels and plays, (where shines display'd
A world that nature never made,)
Which swell their hopes with airy fancies,
And amorous follies of romances;
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On flowery vales and fields Arcadian,
And contsant hearts no chance can sever,
And mortal loves, that last for ever.
| The poetical works of John Trumbull . | |