University of Virginia Library


243

Page 243

DEAR CLEORA,

The shortness of time is a very common
subject of complaint; but I think the misuse of
it, a much more just one. Its value is certainly
under-rated by those who indulge themselves in
morning sloth.

Sweet, indeed, is the breath of morn; and after
the body has been refreshed by the restoring
power of sleep, it is peculiarly prepared to procure
and participate the pleasures of the mind.
The jarring passions are then composed, and the
calm operations of reason succeed of course; while

“— Gentle gales,
Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole
These balmy spoils.”

The morning is undoubtedly a season, of all others,
most favourable to useful exertions. Those,
therefore, who lose three or four hours of it, in
slumbering inaction, make a voluntary sacrifice of
the best part of their existence. I rose to-day,
not with the sun, but with the dawn; and after
taking a few turns in the garden, retired to the
summer-house. This, you know, is a favourite
hour with me.


244

Page 244
“To me be nature's volume broad display'd;
And to peruse its all-instructing page,
Or, haply catching inspiration thence,
Some easy passage, raptur'd, to translate,
My sole delight; as thro' the falling glooms
Pensive I stray, or with the rifing dawn
On fancy's eagle-wing excursive soar.”

Having a memorandum-book and pencil in my
pocket, I descended from the lofty heights to
which the immortal bard, my beloved Thompson,
had insensibly raised my imagination, to the humble
strains of simple rhyme, in order to communicate
my sensations to you. These I enclose,
without attempting to tell you, either in prose or
verse, how affectionately I am your's.

MATILDA FIELDING.