 | Woman, A Poem |  |
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III. PART III.
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CONTENTS OF PART III.
Love invests Woman with her chief influence over us.... Power of this passion to correct our morals and refine our minds....Its symptoms as exhibited in each sex....Courtship ....Hopeless passion....Episode of Connal and Ella ....The first confession of Love....Elegy on a young Lady ....Mutual indifference and metropolitan dissipation the principal causes of unhappy marriages....Domestic sketches in rural retirement.... Character of a good wife.... Conclusion.
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But Love, divine result of all those charms,
Weak Woman with supreme dominion arms.
How shall my voice invoke, while Love I sing?
What muse Parnassian? what Castalian spring?
What Orphean lyre? Ah, these are idle dreams!
Not these informed my young and simple themes.
No, Woman gave me Verse; the human mind
Invented Verse to move dear Womankind.
Did ever virgin poet disregard?
Was ever fervent lover feeble bard?
Then, gentle maid, my pain, my solace long,
Come, and with whispered words inspire my song.
My song inspired, O then with smiles approve,
Nor what you deign to Verse, deny to Love.
Weak Woman with supreme dominion arms.
How shall my voice invoke, while Love I sing?
What muse Parnassian? what Castalian spring?
What Orphean lyre? Ah, these are idle dreams!
Not these informed my young and simple themes.
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Invented Verse to move dear Womankind.
Did ever virgin poet disregard?
Was ever fervent lover feeble bard?
Then, gentle maid, my pain, my solace long,
Come, and with whispered words inspire my song.
My song inspired, O then with smiles approve,
Nor what you deign to Verse, deny to Love.
As when white torrents down some mountain roar,
Drag crashing rocks along and shake the shore,
Caught in the hollow of a flowery land,
The silent floods into a lake expand;
Groves warble near, and on the surface bound
Unruffled pictures of the fawns around;
So the rude nature, that refinement scorned,
By gentle love is softened and adorned.
The godlike structure of imperial man
Kneels suppliant; tears arrest what sighs began.
The bad reform, and Pedants, harsh erewhile,
Trim their redundant locks and dare to smile.
Then Grief forgets, even aching Age enjoys
Short respite; Wit is grave and Wisdom toys.
Ambition leaves a favorite war unwaged,
And Anger wonders he was e'er enraged.
Drag crashing rocks along and shake the shore,
Caught in the hollow of a flowery land,
The silent floods into a lake expand;
Groves warble near, and on the surface bound
Unruffled pictures of the fawns around;
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By gentle love is softened and adorned.
The godlike structure of imperial man
Kneels suppliant; tears arrest what sighs began.
The bad reform, and Pedants, harsh erewhile,
Trim their redundant locks and dare to smile.
Then Grief forgets, even aching Age enjoys
Short respite; Wit is grave and Wisdom toys.
Ambition leaves a favorite war unwaged,
And Anger wonders he was e'er enraged.
What will not man, if ardent Love inspire?
Home he forsakes, and ease, and wealthy sire.
To gain his nymph even empire he foregoes,
Hearth-happy monarch of the cot and rose.
Give him a brook, he yields superfluous Nile,
And crowns are baubles parted for a smile.
Home he forsakes, and ease, and wealthy sire.
To gain his nymph even empire he foregoes,
Hearth-happy monarch of the cot and rose.
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And crowns are baubles parted for a smile.
Then how he sees conspicuous in her face,
All earthly charms, and more than human grace.
Her trifling whim is his important law.
In her 'tis wisdom to discuss a straw.
The goblet moistened at her lip, he drains;
Snatcht from her curl, one precious hair retains:
Hoards up her words, unuttered wants supplies,
Intelligent to learn her asking eyes.
Else jealous, and on vengeful project bound,
He seeks her absent, to neglect her found.
All earthly charms, and more than human grace.
Her trifling whim is his important law.
In her 'tis wisdom to discuss a straw.
The goblet moistened at her lip, he drains;
Snatcht from her curl, one precious hair retains:
Hoards up her words, unuttered wants supplies,
Intelligent to learn her asking eyes.
Else jealous, and on vengeful project bound,
He seeks her absent, to neglect her found.
Such symptoms his. But if the maiden feel,
She shews her love by struggling to conceal.
By forced discourse till irksome men depart,
By musing interval and waking start;
Abstracted answers, sudden feints of glee,
And stedfast looks unconscious that they see.
Much ease she summons, when himself retires;
Affects to mock him, to defend him, fires.
Her shunning eyes his glad return proclaim,
And her cheek kindles at his magic name.
She shews her love by struggling to conceal.
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By musing interval and waking start;
Abstracted answers, sudden feints of glee,
And stedfast looks unconscious that they see.
Much ease she summons, when himself retires;
Affects to mock him, to defend him, fires.
Her shunning eyes his glad return proclaim,
And her cheek kindles at his magic name.
Ah, cold are those who banter or reprove,
Th' enchanting trivialities of love!
The smile, the pout, capricious, fond delays;
The sudden turn of the detected gaze.
The captive finger, prest as 'twere by chance,
And unwithdrawn, as 'twere from absent trance.
Lips saying no, while eyes acquaint you may;
Sweet admonitions after willing play.
Wiles, which can even before a mother woo;
The mother made a witless agent too.
Arch Anger, that so prettily can take
Offence, for kissing reconcilement's sake.
Wild vows, mad menaces, demure replies;
Then all the tender discontent of sighs.
Romantic treaties sworn, to gaze, when far,
Each spangled midnight, on a mutual star;
And the long look, at parting backward cast,
The hopeless look—perhaps for hours the last!
Thus meekly kind, thus amorously coy,
Play courted maids; such courtship youths employ.
To them these nothings are momentous things,
And more to them than diadems to kings.
Th' enchanting trivialities of love!
The smile, the pout, capricious, fond delays;
The sudden turn of the detected gaze.
The captive finger, prest as 'twere by chance,
And unwithdrawn, as 'twere from absent trance.
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Sweet admonitions after willing play.
Wiles, which can even before a mother woo;
The mother made a witless agent too.
Arch Anger, that so prettily can take
Offence, for kissing reconcilement's sake.
Wild vows, mad menaces, demure replies;
Then all the tender discontent of sighs.
Romantic treaties sworn, to gaze, when far,
Each spangled midnight, on a mutual star;
And the long look, at parting backward cast,
The hopeless look—perhaps for hours the last!
Thus meekly kind, thus amorously coy,
Play courted maids; such courtship youths employ.
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And more to them than diadems to kings.
There is a pain that tender hearts endure,
There is a feeling, Oh, how softly pure!
There is a silent care, far, far above
Faint language—tis the care of secret Love.
There is a feeling, Oh, how softly pure!
There is a silent care, far, far above
Faint language—tis the care of secret Love.
There is a language by the virgin made,
Not read but felt, not uttered but betrayed:
A mute communion, yet so wondrous sweet,
Eyes must impart what tongue can ne'er repeat.
Tis written on her cheeks and meaning brows,
In one short glance whole volumes it avows;
In one short moment tells of many days,
In one short speaking silence all conveys.
Joy, sorrow, love recounts, hope, pity, fear,
And looks a sigh and weeps without a tear.
O tis so chaste, so touching, so refined,
So soft, so wistful, so sincere, so kind,
Were eyes melodious, and could music shower,
From orient rays new striking on a flower,
Such heavenly music from that glance might rise,
And angels own the language of the skies!
Not read but felt, not uttered but betrayed:
A mute communion, yet so wondrous sweet,
Eyes must impart what tongue can ne'er repeat.
Tis written on her cheeks and meaning brows,
In one short glance whole volumes it avows;
In one short moment tells of many days,
In one short speaking silence all conveys.
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And looks a sigh and weeps without a tear.
O tis so chaste, so touching, so refined,
So soft, so wistful, so sincere, so kind,
Were eyes melodious, and could music shower,
From orient rays new striking on a flower,
Such heavenly music from that glance might rise,
And angels own the language of the skies!
Ill fares her heart, by secret passion moved,
When glances answer she must love unloved.
She cannot kneel, like slighted youths, and woo,
She cannot storm, complain, implore, pursue;
Nor rush for solace, to voluptuous charms,
Nor exercise the chase, nor gird on arms:
Nor wave the boistrous goblet, till around
Its frothed horizon the red surges bound—
Far from delights she flies, condemned to know
The double pang of unimparted woe.
Hope interposes to protract her care,
And treacherously dallies with Despair.
Some word, some look, some gesture undesigned,
Her tender sophistry still construes kind.
Till heartsick, listless, tearless, day by day,
Despoiled of bloom, she pants in slow decay.
The silent mother, inly guessing all,
Bends o'er her, and anticipates her pall:
And her last moments hoping still to cheer,
Feigns how her loved one hovers sadly near.
The seeming dupe, to recompense the wile,
Long happy days foretells, exerts a smile,
A piteous smile of desolate repose,
Like a pale moonbeam on a blighted rose;—
And gasps out ‘better,’ with that parting breath,
Which cold against her parent, tells her death.
When glances answer she must love unloved.
She cannot kneel, like slighted youths, and woo,
She cannot storm, complain, implore, pursue;
Nor rush for solace, to voluptuous charms,
Nor exercise the chase, nor gird on arms:
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Its frothed horizon the red surges bound—
Far from delights she flies, condemned to know
The double pang of unimparted woe.
Hope interposes to protract her care,
And treacherously dallies with Despair.
Some word, some look, some gesture undesigned,
Her tender sophistry still construes kind.
Till heartsick, listless, tearless, day by day,
Despoiled of bloom, she pants in slow decay.
The silent mother, inly guessing all,
Bends o'er her, and anticipates her pall:
And her last moments hoping still to cheer,
Feigns how her loved one hovers sadly near.
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Long happy days foretells, exerts a smile,
A piteous smile of desolate repose,
Like a pale moonbeam on a blighted rose;—
And gasps out ‘better,’ with that parting breath,
Which cold against her parent, tells her death.
Less sad, because more sympathetic, prove
The woes that oft embitter mutual love.
The woes that oft embitter mutual love.
White on a cliff, where Erin westward runs,
And gilds her rocks against Atlantic suns,
(Isle of the triple leaf, from serpent free,)
A perching hamlet overhung the sea.
There Connal sportive hours with Ella led,
And long betrothed, they trusted soon to wed.
Blest interval of love! But who can say,
Tomorrow comes as joyful as today?
And gilds her rocks against Atlantic suns,
(Isle of the triple leaf, from serpent free,)
A perching hamlet overhung the sea.
There Connal sportive hours with Ella led,
And long betrothed, they trusted soon to wed.
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Tomorrow comes as joyful as today?
The sun set red, the clouds were scudding wild,
And their black fragments into masses piled;
The birds of ocean screamed, and ocean gave
A hoarser murmur and a heavier wave.
Young Connal, trolling for the scaly brood,
With slender bark was absent on the flood;
And oft the nymph, prophetic of the blast,
Across the main her wishing glances cast.
At length afar the dusky speck she spied,
Hung on a wave or shooting down its side;
When sudden, from the north, the stormy flight
Rushed prone, with bursting clouds and instant night.
Her cries alarmed, came breathless young and old;
The bell for shipwreck in the hamlet tolled.
The tempest louder howls; along the sands
The people shout, and toss their lighted brands.
The foremost waters, where the brands illume,
Glare hideous; all beyond is solid gloom.
And their black fragments into masses piled;
The birds of ocean screamed, and ocean gave
A hoarser murmur and a heavier wave.
Young Connal, trolling for the scaly brood,
With slender bark was absent on the flood;
And oft the nymph, prophetic of the blast,
Across the main her wishing glances cast.
At length afar the dusky speck she spied,
Hung on a wave or shooting down its side;
When sudden, from the north, the stormy flight
Rushed prone, with bursting clouds and instant night.
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The bell for shipwreck in the hamlet tolled.
The tempest louder howls; along the sands
The people shout, and toss their lighted brands.
The foremost waters, where the brands illume,
Glare hideous; all beyond is solid gloom.
Now from afar, with onward peal more dread,
The pondrous thunder crashes overhead.
Earth shakes, and all the firmamental ire
Of black rain gushes, crost by ghastly fire.
The ridgy surges, shoreward as they tend,
Curl over, and a whitened mass descend;
Then break round Ella, who with clasping hands,
Half to the waist in waves, unconscious stands;
While her loose tresses thro' the whirlwind sing,
Blown sidelong, and her robes with ocean cling.
She stands, and anchors all her aching sight,
Where the dark billow rolls into the light.
Now, now the skiff appears!—Ah, nearer tost,
Its upward keel gives signal, all is lost!
Groans and a solitary shriek succeed;
They drop their torches and round Ella speed,
Plunged in the foam, imploring not to save,
Resisting help and grasping at a wave.
The pondrous thunder crashes overhead.
Earth shakes, and all the firmamental ire
Of black rain gushes, crost by ghastly fire.
The ridgy surges, shoreward as they tend,
Curl over, and a whitened mass descend;
Then break round Ella, who with clasping hands,
Half to the waist in waves, unconscious stands;
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Blown sidelong, and her robes with ocean cling.
She stands, and anchors all her aching sight,
Where the dark billow rolls into the light.
Now, now the skiff appears!—Ah, nearer tost,
Its upward keel gives signal, all is lost!
Groans and a solitary shriek succeed;
They drop their torches and round Ella speed,
Plunged in the foam, imploring not to save,
Resisting help and grasping at a wave.
Another winter passed, and still her form
Went forth and moaned in each nocturnal storm.
Went forth and moaned in each nocturnal storm.
One night she wandered down that fatal shore,
So shattered by the raging surge before;
But now the little waves were softly fanned,
And printed rippling kisses on the sand.
Now too the moon ascended heaven, to crown
Its starry forehead, blue without a frown;
And in such mellow lustre steeped the maid,
Even purple roses for that hue might fade.
There, while beginning tears, like mists, arise,
And dim the broken moonbeams in her eyes,
She sings a dirge her wildered fancy wrought,
When the sad shipwreck had impaired her thought.
So shattered by the raging surge before;
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And printed rippling kisses on the sand.
Now too the moon ascended heaven, to crown
Its starry forehead, blue without a frown;
And in such mellow lustre steeped the maid,
Even purple roses for that hue might fade.
There, while beginning tears, like mists, arise,
And dim the broken moonbeams in her eyes,
She sings a dirge her wildered fancy wrought,
When the sad shipwreck had impaired her thought.
‘I wish I were beside my faithful love,
‘And heard the billows humming high above;
‘And I would chase the monsters from his form,
‘And clasp his chilly heart while mine was warm.
‘And when our bones were scattered far away,
‘Our floating hearts would still together stay;
‘For round about them pearly shells would cling,
‘And coral knot them with a pious string.
‘And then our spirits, where true lovers go,
‘Would gaze together on our hearts below.
‘I sicken when the rising sun I see,
‘I hate kind faces, tho' they pity me;
‘I loathe the vallies and the skies above.
‘I wish I were beside my faithful love!’
‘And heard the billows humming high above;
‘And I would chase the monsters from his form,
‘And clasp his chilly heart while mine was warm.
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‘Our floating hearts would still together stay;
‘For round about them pearly shells would cling,
‘And coral knot them with a pious string.
‘And then our spirits, where true lovers go,
‘Would gaze together on our hearts below.
‘I sicken when the rising sun I see,
‘I hate kind faces, tho' they pity me;
‘I loathe the vallies and the skies above.
‘I wish I were beside my faithful love!’
‘And see, beside thy faithful love thou art!’
A voice exclaimed, that rang upon her heart;
The voice of Connal! Lost in sweet alarms,
And senseless struck, she dropped into his arms.
He called her precious name, her bosom fanned,
Now heaped the waters in his hollow hand;
Now her wet forehead chafed. The living glow
Came, as a crimson sunbeam breaks on snow.
She waked, and while around him wildly wreathed,
Caressed and looked, and sobbing welcome breathed;
And interposed quick questions, as the past,
Twixt lengthened kisses, he recounted fast.
How, breasting the tempestuous surge, he cheered
A small American, by pirates steered;
Then capture, toil, escape, betrayed disguise—
But stops in pity to her weeping eyes;
That tremulous with watry lustre, fill,
While waits her gathered breath each coming ill.
She dries those tears, again to view his face,
Nor feels her tresses strained by his embrace.
‘Thus let me live!’ is his extatic cry;
‘And thus,’ she softly whispers, ‘let me die!’
A voice exclaimed, that rang upon her heart;
The voice of Connal! Lost in sweet alarms,
And senseless struck, she dropped into his arms.
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Now heaped the waters in his hollow hand;
Now her wet forehead chafed. The living glow
Came, as a crimson sunbeam breaks on snow.
She waked, and while around him wildly wreathed,
Caressed and looked, and sobbing welcome breathed;
And interposed quick questions, as the past,
Twixt lengthened kisses, he recounted fast.
How, breasting the tempestuous surge, he cheered
A small American, by pirates steered;
Then capture, toil, escape, betrayed disguise—
But stops in pity to her weeping eyes;
That tremulous with watry lustre, fill,
While waits her gathered breath each coming ill.
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Nor feels her tresses strained by his embrace.
‘Thus let me live!’ is his extatic cry;
‘And thus,’ she softly whispers, ‘let me die!’
I hate the man, at amorous pangs alarmed,
Who thanks his planets for a heart unharmed.
Far better cultivate the love that glows,
Than batten pale on unendeared repose.
Better oft lose than never win a maid;
Better than never trust, be oft betrayed.
Her baffling laugh and pointing finger, well
Are risked for tales her crimson kisses tell.
O after long suspense and pining care,
And morns of hope and midnights of despair,
To hear the fond, demurring girl remove
All torments, with two golden words—I love!
Who thanks his planets for a heart unharmed.
Far better cultivate the love that glows,
Than batten pale on unendeared repose.
Better oft lose than never win a maid;
Better than never trust, be oft betrayed.
Her baffling laugh and pointing finger, well
Are risked for tales her crimson kisses tell.
O after long suspense and pining care,
And morns of hope and midnights of despair,
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All torments, with two golden words—I love!
Methinks I see her, at that matchless hour,
Beside her youth in some sequestered bower,
Where birds have nests, where myrtles interwreathe,
Where odorous roses into roses breathe,
And two transparent brooks unite their tide,
And mix their murmur, never to divide.
Blest moment! doubly blest by former pain:
That moment Mary gave, but gave in vain.
Sweet Sister! beautiful and good and young,
Implored by suitors and by poets sung,
Thee pale decay consumed; consumed thee now,
Just as thy parents hoped thy nuptial vow;
Just as thy tongue the soft assent declared,
Just as thou sawest thy bridal robe prepared;
Nor love could save thee, dear domestic boast,
Nor he who called so long thy parted ghost.
Yet if that spirit may behold from high,
The sacred frailty of a sorrowing eye,
O Mary, O my sister, this this tear,
Accept, and love me still in heaven as here!
Beside her youth in some sequestered bower,
Where birds have nests, where myrtles interwreathe,
Where odorous roses into roses breathe,
And two transparent brooks unite their tide,
And mix their murmur, never to divide.
Blest moment! doubly blest by former pain:
That moment Mary gave, but gave in vain.
Sweet Sister! beautiful and good and young,
Implored by suitors and by poets sung,
Thee pale decay consumed; consumed thee now,
Just as thy parents hoped thy nuptial vow;
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Just as thou sawest thy bridal robe prepared;
Nor love could save thee, dear domestic boast,
Nor he who called so long thy parted ghost.
Yet if that spirit may behold from high,
The sacred frailty of a sorrowing eye,
O Mary, O my sister, this this tear,
Accept, and love me still in heaven as here!
A little pause, my song, a fond delay,
A holy pause, to wipe that tear away.
A holy pause, to wipe that tear away.
Tis want of love most curses nuptial beds.
One for an heir, for gold another weds.
This seeks a partner of armorial race;
That laughs at mind and purchases a face.
Here, irksome Solitude to marriage moves;
There, many a youth, refused by her he loves,
Asks her he hates; else some unsuited chance,
Seen but by tapers, known but at the dance.
When Wedlock blesses, life has small alloy;
When Wedlock curses, tis without a joy.
One for an heir, for gold another weds.
This seeks a partner of armorial race;
That laughs at mind and purchases a face.
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There, many a youth, refused by her he loves,
Asks her he hates; else some unsuited chance,
Seen but by tapers, known but at the dance.
When Wedlock blesses, life has small alloy;
When Wedlock curses, tis without a joy.
Still more in towns, where gorgeous throngs invade
The liveried door, is marriage wretched made.
Vain roofs have cheerless hearths. Then, Muse, remove
To rural homes, and sing their virtuous love.
The liveried door, is marriage wretched made.
Vain roofs have cheerless hearths. Then, Muse, remove
To rural homes, and sing their virtuous love.
Light specks of fleecy gold bestrew the skies,
The dewy ox is on his knee to rise;
The mist rolls off in eddies, smokes begin
From opening cots, and all is stir within.
The pastoral family due task prepare,
For whetted scythe, the milkpail and the share;
And haste where lark and zephyr, rill and bee,
Mix harmless their primeval minstrelsy.
One damsel chuckles shrill; her cackling train
Run with spread pinions and dispute the grain.
Another up her rested pitcher heaves,
Encamps small heaps of hay, or girdles sheaves.
Else spinning, pats her busy foot, and trills
Some dittied plaint about a love that kills.
The laden wife meantime to market goes,
Or underneath the hawthorn knits her hose.
Or lays moist kerchiefs on the sunny grass,
Or checks her pottage billowing o'er the brass;
While clattered plates and roots in hurry peeled,
Announce her good man trudging from the field.
The dewy ox is on his knee to rise;
The mist rolls off in eddies, smokes begin
From opening cots, and all is stir within.
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For whetted scythe, the milkpail and the share;
And haste where lark and zephyr, rill and bee,
Mix harmless their primeval minstrelsy.
One damsel chuckles shrill; her cackling train
Run with spread pinions and dispute the grain.
Another up her rested pitcher heaves,
Encamps small heaps of hay, or girdles sheaves.
Else spinning, pats her busy foot, and trills
Some dittied plaint about a love that kills.
The laden wife meantime to market goes,
Or underneath the hawthorn knits her hose.
Or lays moist kerchiefs on the sunny grass,
Or checks her pottage billowing o'er the brass;
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Announce her good man trudging from the field.
But when the sun upon round ocean floats,
When breezes ebb and penned are tinkling cotes,
All gather blithe; the dance some maiden leads,
Some shepherd pipes upon his row of reeds,
Till the last misty purple fades from air:—
Then sly he dallies for his homeward fair;
And says, and swearing says, with many a sigh,
That she must be humane or he must die.
Neat hands have deftly trimmed her cot today:
There stands a cupboard opened for display;
A table there, whose oaken mirror shews
The face imbrowned; there maple plates in rows.
And woodbine shades her dresser, where a sun
Of brass is shining; nought remains undone:
And humble prints of scripture bless the room,
And stuck o'er each appears a pious bloom.
When breezes ebb and penned are tinkling cotes,
All gather blithe; the dance some maiden leads,
Some shepherd pipes upon his row of reeds,
Till the last misty purple fades from air:—
Then sly he dallies for his homeward fair;
And says, and swearing says, with many a sigh,
That she must be humane or he must die.
Neat hands have deftly trimmed her cot today:
There stands a cupboard opened for display;
A table there, whose oaken mirror shews
The face imbrowned; there maple plates in rows.
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Of brass is shining; nought remains undone:
And humble prints of scripture bless the room,
And stuck o'er each appears a pious bloom.
Now they replenish pleasant cups, and tell
The rural news; how he from ladder fell,
How she from hayrick; merry gossip past,
Come dreams, and each outwondered by the last.
Then tales of ghost authentic, then the noise
Of hoodwinked damsel chasing nimble boys;
And when to sit the rustic would essay,
His treacherous mistress slips his bench away,
She flies and hides; he follows, not remiss
To satiate that revenge of love—a kiss.
At the dear outrage, beautifully fought,
(For battled kisses still make kisses sought,)
She whispers shrieks, sighs angry words, and feigns
A struggle yielded soon, and pleased complains.
Implored to passion, vows her heart is free;
He raves, and threatens flight, and praises sea.
Ah, then she owns, how he alone of all—
But starts off sudden, to her mother's call;
Adjusts her ruffled ringlets at the door,
And her warm lips are ruddier than before.
The rural news; how he from ladder fell,
How she from hayrick; merry gossip past,
Come dreams, and each outwondered by the last.
Then tales of ghost authentic, then the noise
Of hoodwinked damsel chasing nimble boys;
And when to sit the rustic would essay,
His treacherous mistress slips his bench away,
She flies and hides; he follows, not remiss
To satiate that revenge of love—a kiss.
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(For battled kisses still make kisses sought,)
She whispers shrieks, sighs angry words, and feigns
A struggle yielded soon, and pleased complains.
Implored to passion, vows her heart is free;
He raves, and threatens flight, and praises sea.
Ah, then she owns, how he alone of all—
But starts off sudden, to her mother's call;
Adjusts her ruffled ringlets at the door,
And her warm lips are ruddier than before.
Yet cares as tender actuate Womankind,
In rural homes, where manners are refined.
Now while the husband o'er his furrow stands,
Or earthy spade and dewy scythe commands;
Or shears his future frieze, the housewife holds
Maternal audience, and the task unfolds.
One the plain sampler letters, one essays
Small syllables, or taught Our Father, prays.
New frocks upon a sparkling girl she tries,
While studious faces peep with idle eyes.
Now figured slates she praises, now reproves
Pens inexpert, and Emulation moves;
Or teaches maps, shews England in the sea;
Or rolls her world of spheric mimicry.
Then simple lecture adds; who made the sky,
How to live happy, happy how to die.
In rural homes, where manners are refined.
Now while the husband o'er his furrow stands,
Or earthy spade and dewy scythe commands;
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Maternal audience, and the task unfolds.
One the plain sampler letters, one essays
Small syllables, or taught Our Father, prays.
New frocks upon a sparkling girl she tries,
While studious faces peep with idle eyes.
Now figured slates she praises, now reproves
Pens inexpert, and Emulation moves;
Or teaches maps, shews England in the sea;
Or rolls her world of spheric mimicry.
Then simple lecture adds; who made the sky,
How to live happy, happy how to die.
At eve all wander forth. The youngest pride,
Held fast, and tripping by the mother's side,
With smaller steps and hastier than her own,
Looks urgent up and prays to run alone.
While some chase butterflies, or prank with thorn,
Proud bonnets, or admonished, shun the horn;
Or nod at upward faces in the lakes,
The nymph her pencil near some ruin takes
And sketches vales, where shining rivers wind,
Blue mountains, and the crimson sky behind.
Not far a group of rustic postures stand,
And an old oak grotesque o'erhangs her hand.
Held fast, and tripping by the mother's side,
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Looks urgent up and prays to run alone.
While some chase butterflies, or prank with thorn,
Proud bonnets, or admonished, shun the horn;
Or nod at upward faces in the lakes,
The nymph her pencil near some ruin takes
And sketches vales, where shining rivers wind,
Blue mountains, and the crimson sky behind.
Not far a group of rustic postures stand,
And an old oak grotesque o'erhangs her hand.
But when returned, the blooming household meet,
The childish prank, the dance of infant feet;
Plain meal and artless story wing the time,
And golden volumes of immortal rhime;
Or vocal song, while caged thrushes cheer,
And thrill their feathers. Such the moments here.
Nor Envy here her writhing serpent gnaws,
And Candour executes unwritten laws.
The childish prank, the dance of infant feet;
Plain meal and artless story wing the time,
And golden volumes of immortal rhime;
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And thrill their feathers. Such the moments here.
Nor Envy here her writhing serpent gnaws,
And Candour executes unwritten laws.
These are the blessings Woman best maintains;
By these dominion unusurped she gains.
Hence to maternal home is virtue given;
Hence earth with wafted angels peoples heaven.
Thus England triumphs. Empires are secure,
While men continue free and women pure.
By these dominion unusurped she gains.
Hence to maternal home is virtue given;
Hence earth with wafted angels peoples heaven.
Thus England triumphs. Empires are secure,
While men continue free and women pure.
Oh, give me, heaven, to sweeten latter life,
And mend my wayward heart, a tender wife;
Who soothes me, tho' herself with anguish wrung
Nor renders ill for ill, nor tongue for tongue.
Sways by persuading, kisses off my frown,
And reigns unarmed, a queen without a crown.
Alike, to please me, her accomplished hand
The harp and homely needle can command;
And learning with such grace her tongue applies,
Her very maxims wear a gay disguise.
Neat for my presence, as if princes came,
And modest, even to me, with bridal shame;
A friend or playmate, as my wishes call,
A ready nurse, tho' summoned from a ball,
She holds in age, that conquest youth achieved,
Loves without pomp and pleases unperceived.
And mend my wayward heart, a tender wife;
Who soothes me, tho' herself with anguish wrung
Nor renders ill for ill, nor tongue for tongue.
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And reigns unarmed, a queen without a crown.
Alike, to please me, her accomplished hand
The harp and homely needle can command;
And learning with such grace her tongue applies,
Her very maxims wear a gay disguise.
Neat for my presence, as if princes came,
And modest, even to me, with bridal shame;
A friend or playmate, as my wishes call,
A ready nurse, tho' summoned from a ball,
She holds in age, that conquest youth achieved,
Loves without pomp and pleases unperceived.
Such be my lot. Then, boisterous ocean past,
My bark shall enter gliding streams at last.
Then, as a village, tinged with evening gold,
And calm with sheltered spire and smoke uprolled,
Repose to some lost traveller commends,
As down the drizzling mountain slow he wends;
So tranquil Wedlock shall withdraw my mind,
From all the toiling cares of worn mankind.
My bark shall enter gliding streams at last.
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And calm with sheltered spire and smoke uprolled,
Repose to some lost traveller commends,
As down the drizzling mountain slow he wends;
So tranquil Wedlock shall withdraw my mind,
From all the toiling cares of worn mankind.
And O, when death dissolves that holy chain,
When Love forsakes my heart and Verse my brain;
When haply, not unpleased how nymphs I sing,
Fair fingers strew my turf with early spring;
May the dear solace of my mortal love,
Rejoin me in the starry bowers above.
There where deserving wives, who sorrow here,
No more shall tremble at the spouse austere.
There where the pairs whom fate asunder tore,
Shall mix ambrosial breaths and part no more:
Youths, whom the sires of tender virgins scorn,
And maids who die before the nuptial morn;
Or o'er the grave of some true lover, shed
The tear that else had graced his bridal bed.
When Love forsakes my heart and Verse my brain;
When haply, not unpleased how nymphs I sing,
Fair fingers strew my turf with early spring;
May the dear solace of my mortal love,
Rejoin me in the starry bowers above.
There where deserving wives, who sorrow here,
No more shall tremble at the spouse austere.
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Shall mix ambrosial breaths and part no more:
Youths, whom the sires of tender virgins scorn,
And maids who die before the nuptial morn;
Or o'er the grave of some true lover, shed
The tear that else had graced his bridal bed.
| Woman, A Poem | |