« 이전계속 »
What object in this vale of tears,
Like Woman can engage?
Her love the morn of life endears;
Her friendship chears our age.
And who shall speak with erring rhyme,
Of Woman's feebler kind?
In ev'ry age, in ev'ry clime,
She proves superior mind.
For her's is Prudence to decide
In danger, doubt, and strife;
And Patience hers, too sorely tried
In this eventful life.
With ev'ry charm, and ev'ry grace,
That lovely women boast,
Zenobia rul'd the manly race,
And led the banner'd host.
Her noble mind, with high disdain,
Rebuk'd imperial pride.
She spurn'd the haughty Victor's chain,
And triumph'd when she died.
Behold Agnetit thought profound,
All Wisdom's depths explore;
And all the dark abysses sound
Of philosophic lore!
Let Cambria's wild romantic hills
Report, if years impair,
Or life's approaching winter chills
The Friendships of the Fair.
For female friends their glens among,
In constancy exceed
Whate'er in history, or song,
Of manly Truth we read.
And what can manly Friendship show,
Like that illustrious wife?
Alcestis seeks the shades below
To give her husband life.
And have we not of Arria read,
If Fortitude may charm;
Sustain'd by Love, the female bled
To nerve the manly arm.
And let not Man's presumptuous aim,
With all his strength and skill,
A greater share than Woman claim
In human good and ill.
Her fond and tender cares we know,
In helpless childhood prov'd.
What joys on man she can bestow,
Speak thou, whose soul has lov'd!
To chace our sorrows, wrongs, and fears,
O, who can boast the pow'r?
Who crouds the happiness of years,
In one elysian hour?
Love is the source of purest ties,
That bind in social life;
And Ileav'n beholds, with partial eyes, The Mother, and the Wife.
Whence have the seeds of Knowledge sprung,
Sown in our childish days?
Who timely forms the stammering tongue,
To sound our Maker's praise?
O sure 'tis Woman—to her state
Our weal and woe are join'd;
She gives a colour to the fate
Of all the manly kind.
THE WISH ACCOMPLISHED.
FROM THE FRENCH.
'twas Spring when from his pregnant wife
Far distant lands poor Lubin parted, And, as he lov'd her more than life,
The swain was almost broken-hearted.
Gazing delighted on her charms,
"May Heaven," he cried, "sweet spouse restore "Thee safely to my longing arms,
"As now thou art; I ask no more."
Nor was his fond petition spurn'd—
Benignant Heaven consenting smil'd!A twelvemonth past he home return'd,
And found his darling wife—with child.
Addressed by the late Miss Lyne to her Brother, Charles Taylor, now Lieutenant-Colonel of the 20th Dragoons.
Dear Charles, who void of guile or art,
Canst boast an open friendly heart,
Generous, if not refin'd;
Accept, upon thy natal day,
Lines which, alas, but ill convey
The image of my mind!
May'st thou, the next revolving year,
Find joys unsullied with a tear,
Save what my sorrows claim;—
And those my brother soon shall cease,
Soon shall the sufferer be at peace,
At rest this harassed frame.
My grateful spirit then shall rise,
Pleased to assert her native skies,
Where Hope now points the road;
Mercy divine shall smooth the way,
And to the trembling sinner say,
Dare to behold thy God.
A longer happier lot be thine,
May ev'ry earthly good conjoin
To crown thy life with joy:
May virtue in thy breast preside;
May prudence all thy actions guide;
And oft thy thoughts employ!
Adieu—my strength and spirits fail,
The sinking lamp of life grown pale,
Scarce lends a feeble ray;
Soon my freed spirit shall ascend
To God, my father, and my friend,
la realms of endless day!
TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK,
BY THEOPHILUS SWIFT, ESQ.
Nixxof nt To <piAiif«<r To yn( Toju» >iKTa;c; urn
Nut fAtduu To <piXf]jua, Otoxw Tov ogoora WEnvxoof.
Anthol. Lib. VTI.
The girl that I love lately gave me a kiss,
And the dew of her lip seal'd the ravishing bliss.
Of nectar the kiss, for her breath gave it bloom;
Her breath was the nectar's delicious perfume.
Now full flowing bumpers of rapture I prove,
And tipsey with joy, I'm a Bacchus in love.
VOL. iv. z