And as the best way to divert their abuse (If we use them at all) is to give them right use, I hereby ordain, that in future the word Be confined to the masculine, vain, and absurd, And that all real women, ev'n though they may speak Not with Sappho's eyes only, but even her Greek, All the flow'rs of the flock, the true breathers of sweets, Take their name from the queen of the sylvan retreats ; From the hue which but now had your eyes fix'd upon The Violet, charmer of all that light on it. [it,"No Blue," twill be said, "is the she who so bears her; She's VIOLET:-happy the bosom that wears her.' Here somebody happening to cough where we sat, Phoebus threw up a frown at us none could look at,An eye of so sudden a flame, and tremendous, I thought he was going to "flare up" and end us; But seeing us all look submissive, he shone With the former mild beams in his hair, and went on: "And in truth it depends on yourselves, darling creatures, Which shade of the hue shall illustrate your natures; For though ye set out with the right one, nay, though I myself, as I now do, the blessing bestow, Yet the stockings themselves, I must tell you, are fated, And just as they're worn, will be lov'd or get hated; Remaining true violet,-glimpses of heaven,- Seize the golden occasion then.-You, who already To be men's best companions, be such, once for all. Had one face in print, and another in private. Be "UNAFFECTEDNESS, GENTLENESS, LOVINGNESS.This your motto. And now give your teacher a kiss." He said and the whole house appearing to rise, Rooms and all, in a rapture of love, tow'rds the skies, He did really, by some divine privilege of his, Which Prince Camaralzaman had, or Bedreddin, *The word "gentle" is here to be understood in its fine old sense as implying, in the inner nature, all which gentle manners ought to imply, and which, when really gentle, they do. Such is the meaning of the word in Chaucer, Spenser and Shakspeare; in Mr. Wordsworth's "Gentle lady married to the Moor;" and in the "cor gentile " and "Donna gentil" of the Italians. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. THOUGHTS OF THE AVON, ON THE 28TH OF SEPTEMBER, 1817. Ir is the loveliest day that we have had The banks of Avon must look well to-day; And why must I be thinking of the pride In leafy fields, quiet, and self-possest, Having, on one side, Hampstead for my looks, It is not that I envy autumn there, That sprightliest, gravest, wisest, kindest one- * No; but it is, that on this very day, Mothers and daughters, wives and sisters wore, SLEEP breathes at last from out thee, Yet almost wish, with sudden shrink, * Pershore, or Pearshore, on the Avon; so named probably from its abundance of pears. Thy sidelong pillowed meekness, The little trembling hand Sorrows I've had, severe ones, Ah, first-born of thy mother, To say "He has departed" "His voice"-"his face"-is gone ; To feel impatient-hearted, Yet feel we must bear on; Ah, I could not endure To whisper of such woe, Unless I felt this sleep ensure That it will not be so. Yes, still he's fix'd, and sleeping! |