 | Woman, A Poem |  |
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II. PART II.
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CONTENTS OF PART II.
Beside those qualities already enumerated, Women possess various arts and attractions which add to their ascendancy. 1st. Gentleness of look, tone, and deportment; 2d. Grace; 3d. Urbanity; 4th. Conversational powers; 5th. Beauty....Moral influence of Beauty....A lovely girl described ....Seduction how detestable....Episode of Caroline.
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'Tis by those lovely Virtues Woman sways:
Man knows them precious, and discreet repays.
But other charms, which man must disavow,
Confirm her influence. These I number now.
Man knows them precious, and discreet repays.
But other charms, which man must disavow,
Confirm her influence. These I number now.
With amiable defects of nature born,
Wants that endear and foibles that adorn,
She by reserve and awful meekness reigns;
Her sighs are edicts, her caresses chains.
Why has she tones with speaking music strung?
Eyes eloquent beyond the mortal tongue?
And looks that vanquish, till, on nerveless knee,
Men gaze, and grow with gazing, weak as she?
'Tis to command these arts against our arms,
And tame imperious might with winning charms.
Wants that endear and foibles that adorn,
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Her sighs are edicts, her caresses chains.
Why has she tones with speaking music strung?
Eyes eloquent beyond the mortal tongue?
And looks that vanquish, till, on nerveless knee,
Men gaze, and grow with gazing, weak as she?
'Tis to command these arts against our arms,
And tame imperious might with winning charms.
Tears and ye blushes! by what organs wrought,
Ye go your journies, little recks my thought.
But to soft Womankind, I feel, ye bring
More aid than bannered armies to their king.
Shew me the man whose ire is unallayed,
While low before him weeps a suppliant maid,
And I will shew you, underneath the stream,
The thunder burning with unblunted gleam.
Ye go your journies, little recks my thought.
But to soft Womankind, I feel, ye bring
More aid than bannered armies to their king.
Shew me the man whose ire is unallayed,
While low before him weeps a suppliant maid,
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The thunder burning with unblunted gleam.
But can all earth excel that crimson grace,
When her heart sends its herald to her face?
Sends from its ark its own unblemished dove,
A messenger of truth, and joy, and love!
Her blush can man to modest passion fire,
Her blush can awe his arrogant desire.
Her blush can welcome lovers or can warn,
As ruddy skies announce both night and morn.
When her heart sends its herald to her face?
Sends from its ark its own unblemished dove,
A messenger of truth, and joy, and love!
Her blush can man to modest passion fire,
Her blush can awe his arrogant desire.
Her blush can welcome lovers or can warn,
As ruddy skies announce both night and morn.
Nor pass unsung those subtle troops, who wield
Light weapons, yet not harmless in the field.
Grace, with her flying outline ever new:
The kind address that seems selecting You.
Th' adapted look that hangs on all you tell,
The science not unwise, to trifle well.
Sweet Wildness, Pride that wins while it alarms,
And Folly that beguiles, and Whim that charms.
Light weapons, yet not harmless in the field.
Grace, with her flying outline ever new:
The kind address that seems selecting You.
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The science not unwise, to trifle well.
Sweet Wildness, Pride that wins while it alarms,
And Folly that beguiles, and Whim that charms.
Well too she knows soft converse to sustain,
To mix the blithe and monitory strain;
The sally no grave maxim can withstand,
The praise of a pretended reprimand;—
To touch with sentiment, with wit amuse,
In happy contrast; like those meeting hues,
When, at the distant sunset, we behold
Earth end in sapphire, air begin in gold.
To mix the blithe and monitory strain;
The sally no grave maxim can withstand,
The praise of a pretended reprimand;—
To touch with sentiment, with wit amuse,
In happy contrast; like those meeting hues,
When, at the distant sunset, we behold
Earth end in sapphire, air begin in gold.
Would Woman govern tyrants? she concedes
In slight concerns, and hence in weighty, leads.
Opposes first, to make surrender prized,
And while she gives advice, appears advised.
She rallies men, not flatters, when they rave,
And comes, a laughing suppliant, not a grave.
In slight concerns, and hence in weighty, leads.
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And while she gives advice, appears advised.
She rallies men, not flatters, when they rave,
And comes, a laughing suppliant, not a grave.
Thus too, her Beauty to her empire tends,
And heaven that Beauty gave for moral ends;
Since, tho' itself no virtue, it can aid
The cause of virtue to the pleading maid;
And Wisdom, by the pretty lip exprest,
Delights us most, and so persuades us best.
Even from these outward charms, our souls acquire
Responsive graces, and to please aspire;
For some high purpose feel such beauties given,
And turn (O small remove!) from them to heaven.
And heaven that Beauty gave for moral ends;
Since, tho' itself no virtue, it can aid
The cause of virtue to the pleading maid;
And Wisdom, by the pretty lip exprest,
Delights us most, and so persuades us best.
Even from these outward charms, our souls acquire
Responsive graces, and to please aspire;
For some high purpose feel such beauties given,
And turn (O small remove!) from them to heaven.
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Fresh, and till now unseeing and unseen,
How blithe the nymph of innocent fifteen!
Her form but just unfolded, not a wile
Yet practised, heartfelt every native smile.
How shine her lips, unbruised by man's embrace!
What visions of sweet blushes haunt her face!
How her new bosom heaves without a sigh!
How the moist sparkle dances in her eye!
And light she trips, and with Arcadian air,
Shakes from her forehead her unshackled hair;
And flusht at praises whispered in her ears,
To her the world a paradise appears.
O unsuspecting youth! O heedless joy!
O wild illusions, yet too short to cloy!
Why must time come, when Discontent shall lay
Its heavy finger on a heart so gay?
When from the withered cheek the roses fall,
And sunny eyes are overclouded all;
When age succeeds, with love no more beguiled,
The lordly husband, the rebellious child;
And slow disease without one hope to save,
Last, death unmourned, and some forgotten grave.
Snatch then, engaging girl, while yet you can,
Your term of frolic from mistrusted man.
Soon whitest clouds, and edged with earliest ray
Of florid morn, scowl down and blacken day!
How blithe the nymph of innocent fifteen!
Her form but just unfolded, not a wile
Yet practised, heartfelt every native smile.
How shine her lips, unbruised by man's embrace!
What visions of sweet blushes haunt her face!
How her new bosom heaves without a sigh!
How the moist sparkle dances in her eye!
And light she trips, and with Arcadian air,
Shakes from her forehead her unshackled hair;
And flusht at praises whispered in her ears,
To her the world a paradise appears.
O unsuspecting youth! O heedless joy!
O wild illusions, yet too short to cloy!
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Its heavy finger on a heart so gay?
When from the withered cheek the roses fall,
And sunny eyes are overclouded all;
When age succeeds, with love no more beguiled,
The lordly husband, the rebellious child;
And slow disease without one hope to save,
Last, death unmourned, and some forgotten grave.
Snatch then, engaging girl, while yet you can,
Your term of frolic from mistrusted man.
Soon whitest clouds, and edged with earliest ray
Of florid morn, scowl down and blacken day!
But add three summers, how those charms allure,
So panting ripe, so maidenly demure.
Fair shines her bust; the forehead raised serene,
The lips, with just a breathing line between;
The neck, in posture as of audience, placed,
The parted marble, and indented waist;
Whence swell the flowing limbs, as they descend
Luxuriant, and in taper sculpture end.
So panting ripe, so maidenly demure.
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The lips, with just a breathing line between;
The neck, in posture as of audience, placed,
The parted marble, and indented waist;
Whence swell the flowing limbs, as they descend
Luxuriant, and in taper sculpture end.
But touch this statue into starting life,
Blend colours there that make harmonious strife;
Let Nature with bright pencil, flying down,
Paint her cheek crimson and her tresses brown;
Or give narcissine curls, and in her face
Mix lilies with a more empurpled grace;
Or adding ebon ringlets, on her glow
The tempered spirit of the olive throw:—
Yet still, howe'er she varies, whether viewed
Or in the dimpling or the musing mood;
By sun or crescent, at the mazy dance,
Or motionless in monumental trance;
Or running over plains, as, shot from skies,
A gleam of radiance over ocean flies;
Still all is lovely. This embellished earth,
When leaf and flowret spring to vernal birth;
Dale, water, wood, the mountain and the spire,
When Morning paints them with her dewy fire;
The gliding sail, by moonlight seen afar,
The ruddy beacon and the paler star;
These pall if long beheld. But unallayed,
The sight luxuriates on a beauteous maid.
Each glance still finds her lovelier than before,
Each gazing moment asks a moment more.
Yet then must intellectual graces move
The play of features, ere we quite approve.
Yet must chaste Honor, ere those graces win,
Light up the blooming image from within!
Blend colours there that make harmonious strife;
Let Nature with bright pencil, flying down,
Paint her cheek crimson and her tresses brown;
Or give narcissine curls, and in her face
Mix lilies with a more empurpled grace;
Or adding ebon ringlets, on her glow
The tempered spirit of the olive throw:—
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Or in the dimpling or the musing mood;
By sun or crescent, at the mazy dance,
Or motionless in monumental trance;
Or running over plains, as, shot from skies,
A gleam of radiance over ocean flies;
Still all is lovely. This embellished earth,
When leaf and flowret spring to vernal birth;
Dale, water, wood, the mountain and the spire,
When Morning paints them with her dewy fire;
The gliding sail, by moonlight seen afar,
The ruddy beacon and the paler star;
These pall if long beheld. But unallayed,
The sight luxuriates on a beauteous maid.
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Each gazing moment asks a moment more.
Yet then must intellectual graces move
The play of features, ere we quite approve.
Yet must chaste Honor, ere those graces win,
Light up the blooming image from within!
To mar that gem, prized only while ungained,
Destroyed, the baffling moment 'tis obtained,
Man comes, a gilded snake; ensnares with wiles,
Suborns his tears and meditates his smiles.
With cities sated, hamlets he must roam,
To lure the rural nymph from modest home.
What has she done, that miscreants should betray?
Not her's the midnight dance, the rich array;
The dream that frowns upon a rival viewed,
The golden feast with spicy fires imbued.
Her pastime is the dance at setting sun,
Her grandeur is the flaxen robe she spun.
By her own hands her milky draught is prest,
By her own frugal hands her herbs are drest.
Her smiling dream repeats the hymn she prayed.
How has she harmed, the poor unhappy maid?
In vain the miscreant, to beguile her moans,
Buys splendor, lights her locks with radiant stones:
Tho' quarried Ind on tissued Persia glares,
Cold underneath the pomp, her heart despairs.
Destroyed, the baffling moment 'tis obtained,
Man comes, a gilded snake; ensnares with wiles,
Suborns his tears and meditates his smiles.
With cities sated, hamlets he must roam,
To lure the rural nymph from modest home.
What has she done, that miscreants should betray?
Not her's the midnight dance, the rich array;
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The golden feast with spicy fires imbued.
Her pastime is the dance at setting sun,
Her grandeur is the flaxen robe she spun.
By her own hands her milky draught is prest,
By her own frugal hands her herbs are drest.
Her smiling dream repeats the hymn she prayed.
How has she harmed, the poor unhappy maid?
In vain the miscreant, to beguile her moans,
Buys splendor, lights her locks with radiant stones:
Tho' quarried Ind on tissued Persia glares,
Cold underneath the pomp, her heart despairs.
Ye thoughtless band, the gay career who run,
Come, learn the sorrows of a maid undone.
Even Vice may haply lean a virtuous ear,
And selfish Misery mingle half his tear.
Come, learn the sorrows of a maid undone.
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And selfish Misery mingle half his tear.
Beneath a thatch, where eglantine embowered
The leafy porch, and honeysuckle flowered,
An humble widow lived, whose grey decline
Clung on one hope, her lovely Caroline.
The damsel, wooed by many a peasant round,
Was free as some green islet yet unfound.
A wheaten hat her tresses then controlled,
Her pastoral russet was unstained with gold.
Her airy step appeared to tread the sky,
And joy and frolic sparkled in her eye.
The leafy porch, and honeysuckle flowered,
An humble widow lived, whose grey decline
Clung on one hope, her lovely Caroline.
The damsel, wooed by many a peasant round,
Was free as some green islet yet unfound.
A wheaten hat her tresses then controlled,
Her pastoral russet was unstained with gold.
Her airy step appeared to tread the sky,
And joy and frolic sparkled in her eye.
But fatal hour, when she, by swains unmoved,
Beheld the master of the vale, and loved.
Long had he tempted her reserve in vain;
Till one ambrosial eve that sunned the plain,
Just on the margin, where a flitting brook
White bellbines and the thymy herbage shook;
Where a thick arbour rustled overhead,
And flowery brakes a rain of roses shed,
He found the sleeping nymph. Prophane he pressed
Her lip, till that false moment ne'er carest.
She starts alarmed, and as a wounded doe
Pours out its purple life upon the snow,
So her cheek blushes, while her humble eyes
Fear from a harebell underfoot to rise;
And her hand makes sweet pretext to repair
The discomposed meanders of her hair.
Beheld the master of the vale, and loved.
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Till one ambrosial eve that sunned the plain,
Just on the margin, where a flitting brook
White bellbines and the thymy herbage shook;
Where a thick arbour rustled overhead,
And flowery brakes a rain of roses shed,
He found the sleeping nymph. Prophane he pressed
Her lip, till that false moment ne'er carest.
She starts alarmed, and as a wounded doe
Pours out its purple life upon the snow,
So her cheek blushes, while her humble eyes
Fear from a harebell underfoot to rise;
And her hand makes sweet pretext to repair
The discomposed meanders of her hair.
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Need I the fiend unmask? Enough to tell,
His treason triumphed, she believed and fell.
His treason triumphed, she believed and fell.
Blind, frantic girl! And now from home decoyed,
She dwells with him, mid pleasures unenjoyed;
Till hasty tidings at her door impart,
Dead is her mother of a broken heart.
Her curdled surface shudders as she hears,
Back she reels dizzily with tingling ears;
And wild against her forehead throbs her brain,
And voiceless, she would utter shrieks in vain.
She dwells with him, mid pleasures unenjoyed;
Till hasty tidings at her door impart,
Dead is her mother of a broken heart.
Her curdled surface shudders as she hears,
Back she reels dizzily with tingling ears;
And wild against her forehead throbs her brain,
And voiceless, she would utter shrieks in vain.
Upspringing quick, ‘At least, at least,’ she cries,
‘I may still hover where the victim lies;
‘There unconsoled, unfriended, pine away,
‘Then sleep in peace beside her hallowed clay!’
‘I may still hover where the victim lies;
‘There unconsoled, unfriended, pine away,
‘Then sleep in peace beside her hallowed clay!’
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Now the despairing wretch, without repose,
From morn till eve her journey homeward goes;
When, as her steps a cliff familiar scale,
Bursts on her filling eyes her native vale.
She pants, expands her arms, ‘Ah, happy scene,’
Exclaiming, ‘Ah, sweet valley, lovely green,
‘Still ye remain the same; your woodlands still,
‘All your white cottages, the distant mill;
‘Its oziered brook that prattles thro' the glade,
‘The pleasant meadow where we danced and played;
‘All are unaltered: I alone appear,
‘Deformed from happier times, and odious here!’
From morn till eve her journey homeward goes;
When, as her steps a cliff familiar scale,
Bursts on her filling eyes her native vale.
She pants, expands her arms, ‘Ah, happy scene,’
Exclaiming, ‘Ah, sweet valley, lovely green,
‘Still ye remain the same; your woodlands still,
‘All your white cottages, the distant mill;
‘Its oziered brook that prattles thro' the glade,
‘The pleasant meadow where we danced and played;
‘All are unaltered: I alone appear,
‘Deformed from happier times, and odious here!’
Now westward rocks a dusky glitter make,
And lengthened shadows shadows overtake.
A parting carol larks and throstles sing,
Brown hands aside the heated sickle fling.
Now winnowing girls, with chaffy fragments strewn,
The kerchief change and tighten aprons soon;
Then, scattered by their chasing lovers, run,
In merry tumult to the pipe begun.
And now while sports o'erspread the ringing green,
A form of wildered aspect, sudden seen,
Stands in the midst. All pausing, gather round,
And silent gaze. The tabors cease to sound.
And lengthened shadows shadows overtake.
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Brown hands aside the heated sickle fling.
Now winnowing girls, with chaffy fragments strewn,
The kerchief change and tighten aprons soon;
Then, scattered by their chasing lovers, run,
In merry tumult to the pipe begun.
And now while sports o'erspread the ringing green,
A form of wildered aspect, sudden seen,
Stands in the midst. All pausing, gather round,
And silent gaze. The tabors cease to sound.
‘Yes, ye may well,’ the sobbing figure cries,
‘Well may ye frown with those repulsive eyes.
‘Yet pity one, less vicious than deceived,
‘Who vows of marriage, ere she fell, believed.
‘Without a parent, friend, or virtuous home,
‘Protect me, leave me not forlorn to roam.
‘No plaintive suppliant for your bread am I;
‘Oh! let me only near my mother die!
‘Not now those wonted smiles ye fondly gave,
‘Not now from lovers sweet discourse I crave;
‘Not now to lead your rural games along,
‘Queen of the dance and despot of the song;—
‘One shed is all, oh, just one wretched shed,
‘To lay my weary limbs and aching head.
‘Even this deny, so still your awful frowns,
‘Drive me not hence to seek abandoned towns;
‘So still ye grant me, houseless and forlorn,
‘To linger here and by my parent mourn!’
‘Well may ye frown with those repulsive eyes.
‘Yet pity one, less vicious than deceived,
‘Who vows of marriage, ere she fell, believed.
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‘Protect me, leave me not forlorn to roam.
‘No plaintive suppliant for your bread am I;
‘Oh! let me only near my mother die!
‘Not now those wonted smiles ye fondly gave,
‘Not now from lovers sweet discourse I crave;
‘Not now to lead your rural games along,
‘Queen of the dance and despot of the song;—
‘One shed is all, oh, just one wretched shed,
‘To lay my weary limbs and aching head.
‘Even this deny, so still your awful frowns,
‘Drive me not hence to seek abandoned towns;
‘So still ye grant me, houseless and forlorn,
‘To linger here and by my parent mourn!’
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She paused, expecting answer. None replied.
‘And have ye children, have ye hearts?’ she cried.
‘Save me now, mothers, and from future harms,
‘May heaven preserve the babies in your arms!
‘See, to you, maids, I bend on abject knee;
‘Youths, even to you, who bent before to me.
‘O my companions! by our childish days,
‘By dear remembrance of our simple plays;
‘By all our former bonds, your parents move;
‘By sacred friendship, O by tender love!
‘Oft when ye trespassed, I for pardon prayed;
‘Oft on myself your little mischiefs laid.
‘To whom ran sobbing every truant child?
‘By whom were angry lovers reconciled?
‘Still silent? What! no hope, no refuge here?
‘No common mercy? What! not even a tear?
‘Go then, sublime in heartless virtue live;
‘Plead not for me, vile culprit, nor forgive.
‘Go; yet the culprit, by her God forgiven,
‘May plead for you before the throne of heaven!
‘O native groves, O long-remembered bowers,
‘Ye hills all sunshine and ye vales all flowers;
‘Home that alone art smiling still on me,
‘Beloved and lost abode, farewell to thee!’
‘And have ye children, have ye hearts?’ she cried.
‘Save me now, mothers, and from future harms,
‘May heaven preserve the babies in your arms!
‘See, to you, maids, I bend on abject knee;
‘Youths, even to you, who bent before to me.
‘O my companions! by our childish days,
‘By dear remembrance of our simple plays;
‘By all our former bonds, your parents move;
‘By sacred friendship, O by tender love!
‘Oft when ye trespassed, I for pardon prayed;
‘Oft on myself your little mischiefs laid.
‘To whom ran sobbing every truant child?
‘By whom were angry lovers reconciled?
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‘No common mercy? What! not even a tear?
‘Go then, sublime in heartless virtue live;
‘Plead not for me, vile culprit, nor forgive.
‘Go; yet the culprit, by her God forgiven,
‘May plead for you before the throne of heaven!
‘O native groves, O long-remembered bowers,
‘Ye hills all sunshine and ye vales all flowers;
‘Home that alone art smiling still on me,
‘Beloved and lost abode, farewell to thee!’
Dropt are her nerveless arms, unbound her hair,
And her last look is placid with despair.
And her last look is placid with despair.
But turning to depart, behind she hears
Wild struggles, and a piteous burst of tears,
‘Speak!’ she conjures, ‘ere yet to frenzy driven,
‘Tell me who weeps? what angel sent from heaven?’
Wild struggles, and a piteous burst of tears,
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‘Tell me who weeps? what angel sent from heaven?’
‘I, I your friend!’ exclaims, with flushing charms,
‘A breathless girl, and darts into her arms.
‘O, I am Ellen still! your other heart,
‘Your favorite Ellen! No, we must not part;
‘No, never! Come, and in our cottage live;
‘Come, for she shall—my mother shall forgive!
‘O my own darling come, and unreproved,
‘Here round this heart hang loving and beloved,
‘Here round this constant heart!’ Still Ellen spoke,
Still fondled, till her sire th' embraces broke.
Borne in his arms, she wept, entreated, raved,
Then fainted, while a mute farewell she waved.
‘A breathless girl, and darts into her arms.
‘O, I am Ellen still! your other heart,
‘Your favorite Ellen! No, we must not part;
‘No, never! Come, and in our cottage live;
‘Come, for she shall—my mother shall forgive!
‘O my own darling come, and unreproved,
‘Here round this heart hang loving and beloved,
‘Here round this constant heart!’ Still Ellen spoke,
Still fondled, till her sire th' embraces broke.
Borne in his arms, she wept, entreated, raved,
Then fainted, while a mute farewell she waved.
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But the lone outcast miserably smiles,
With vacant meekness, as the sire reviles;
Then slow recedes; and moody, pauses now,
And gnaws her tresses and contracts her brow;
While gasps, which leap convulsive from her breast,
She strangles 'twixt her quivering lips comprest.
Shockt by her aspect, matrons, harsh no more,
Pursue her steps and her return implore.
Soon a poor maniac, innocent of ill,
She wanders unconfined her native hill;
On brooks and cresses fares, and all alone,
Chaunts hasty snatches of harmonious moan.
When moonlight kindles up the grass with showers,
And glistens cold upon the sleeping flowers,
She gathers honeysuckle down the dells,
Or rifles fonts of daffodils and bells;
With dewy finger, painted by the leaves,
A coronet of roses interweaves;
Then steals unheard, and gliding thro' the yews,
The garland o'er her buried mother strews;
While matrons tell, how fairies, nightly seen,
Dance roundelays aslant that cowslipt green.
Even when the sleet, with whitened gloom, descends,
And in one sickly glare the landscape blends,
That spot, at dawn, appears above the snows:
That verdant spot the little robin knows:
And certain still to find the flakes removed,
Alights and chirps upon the turf beloved.
With vacant meekness, as the sire reviles;
Then slow recedes; and moody, pauses now,
And gnaws her tresses and contracts her brow;
While gasps, which leap convulsive from her breast,
She strangles 'twixt her quivering lips comprest.
Shockt by her aspect, matrons, harsh no more,
Pursue her steps and her return implore.
Soon a poor maniac, innocent of ill,
She wanders unconfined her native hill;
On brooks and cresses fares, and all alone,
Chaunts hasty snatches of harmonious moan.
When moonlight kindles up the grass with showers,
And glistens cold upon the sleeping flowers,
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Or rifles fonts of daffodils and bells;
With dewy finger, painted by the leaves,
A coronet of roses interweaves;
Then steals unheard, and gliding thro' the yews,
The garland o'er her buried mother strews;
While matrons tell, how fairies, nightly seen,
Dance roundelays aslant that cowslipt green.
Even when the sleet, with whitened gloom, descends,
And in one sickly glare the landscape blends,
That spot, at dawn, appears above the snows:
That verdant spot the little robin knows:
And certain still to find the flakes removed,
Alights and chirps upon the turf beloved.
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Such her employ: her prayer was there to die.
One wintry morn, some rustics, straggling nigh,
Found the pale ruin, life for ever flown,
With downward forehead resting on its stone.
Unfinished lay the votive wreath of yew,
And her lank locks were stiff with frozen dew.
Poor Ellen hymned her requiem. Willows pine
Around her grave. Now peace to Caroline.
One wintry morn, some rustics, straggling nigh,
Found the pale ruin, life for ever flown,
With downward forehead resting on its stone.
Unfinished lay the votive wreath of yew,
And her lank locks were stiff with frozen dew.
Poor Ellen hymned her requiem. Willows pine
Around her grave. Now peace to Caroline.
| Woman, A Poem | |