TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
The oe ligature (one occurrence) has been replaced by 'oe'.
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.
More detail can be found at the end of the book.
THE FOLLOWING PAGES,
ORIGINALLY INTENDED FOR THEIR AMUSEMENT,
ARE DEDICATED TO
MY CHILDREN.
ORACLES FROM THE POETS.
I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark.
_Merchant of Venice._
ORACLES FROM THE POETS:
A FANCIFUL DIVERSION
FOR
THE DRAWING-ROOM.
BY
CAROLINE GILMAN.
The enthusiast Sybil there divinely taught,
Writes on loose foliage inspiration's thought.
She sings the fates, and in her frantic fits
The notes and names inscribed to leaves commits.
_Dryden's and Symmon's Virgil._
_Macbeth._ I conjure you, by that which you profess,
(Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me.
_First Witch._ Speak.
_Second Witch._ Demand.
_Third Witch._ We'll answer.
NEW YORK:
JOHN WILEY
(OLD STAND OF "WILEY AND PUTNAM"),
161 BROADWAY: AND PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON.
1848.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844,
BY WILEY & PUTNAM.
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for
the Southern District of New York.
Stereotyped by
RICHARD C. VALENTINE,
45 Gold-street, New York.
PREFACE.
I was led to arrange "THE ORACLES FROM THE POETS," by observing the
vivid interest taken by persons of all ages in a very common-place
Fortune-Teller in the hands of a young girl. It occurred to me
that I might avail myself of this love of the mysterious, for the
intellectual enjoyment of my family circle.
Instead, however, of the pastime of a few days, it has been the work
of every leisure moment for six months. The first movement was the
pebble thrown into the stream; circle after circle formed, until I
found, with old Thomas Heywood,
"My pen was dipt
As well in opening each hid manuscript,
As tracts more vulgar, whether read or sung
In our domestic or more foreign tongue."
How rich these six months have been in the purest and highest
enjoyment, I will not stop to say; but to be allowed to float in such
an atmosphere, buoyed up with the sweetest sympathies of friends, may
be conceived to be no common happiness. And now, with the hope of
communicating a portion of this pleasure more extensively, I yield
this volume up as a public offering, for the advancement of those
rational social enjoyments which seem to belong to the moral movement
of the age.
I do not know how far early associations may have influenced me, but
I distinctly recollect the first Oracle of my childhood. At the age
of eight years I attended a female seminary in a village. The classes
were allowed a half hour for recreation, and they usually played on
the green within view of the academy building. One day I observed a
group of girls of the senior class pass beyond the bounds and enter
the church, which was opened for some approaching occasional service.
I followed quietly. They walked through the aisle with agitated
whispers, and ascended to the pulpit. Then each, in turn, opening the
large Bible, laid a finger, with closed eyes, on a verse, and read it
aloud, as indicating her fate or character.
I well remember the eagerness with which I listened on the stairs,
for I was afraid to crowd into the pulpit with the _big_ girls. As
they retired, I entered. I can recall the timid feeling with which I
glanced round the shadowy building, the awe with which I closed my
eyes and placed my small finger on the broad page, and the faith with
which I read my _Oracle_.
I must make an early apology for venturing to alter the tenses of
authors so as to conform to answers. I tried the method of literal
extracts, but they were deficient in spirit and directness. I can
now only warn my readers not to quote the Oracles habitually, as
exact transcripts, but resort to the originals. I have trembled as
if it were sacrilege to turn thus the streams of Helicon into this
little channel, but I hope the evil may be balanced by the increased
acquaintance of many with slighted authors.
I have not allowed myself to select from periodicals, though American
journals contain perhaps more favorable specimens of our literature
than the published volumes to which I have felt bound to confine
myself.
My selections have extended so far beyond the limits of my plan, that
I propose furnishing another volume, in the course of the year, with
additional questions, including translations from popular authors.
One question in the present volume, _To what have you a distaste
or aversion?_ is, I think, nearly exhausted, while its opposite,
_What gratifies your taste or affections?_ presents still an ample
field for gleaning. Will this furnish any argument against those
ascetics, who think misery preponderates over happiness? One fanciful
question in the succeeding volume will be, _What is the name of your
Lady-love?_ and another, _Of him who loves you_?
I shall consider with respectful attention friendly suggestions
made to me directly, or through my publishers, preparatory to the
arrangement of another volume, particularly in bringing to view any
poet, who, by accident, may have escaped attention.
I have been urged to communicate, in a preface, the literary results
which have necessarily flowed from the examination and comparison
of such a mass of poets, but the task is beyond the limits of this
humble effort. It would, indeed, be a rich field for a Schlegel or De
Stäel.
A few curious speculations, however, may present themselves to the
most superficial critic. In Shakspeare, for instance, so affluent in
various delineations of character and personal appearance, I looked
in vain for places of residence. There seemed not to be even a fair
proportion of passages descriptive of musical sounds, hours, seasons,
and (except in The Winter's Tale) of flowers.
In Wordsworth, scarcely a flower or musical sound is described. They
are alluded to, but not painted out. The poetry of Crabbe, though
abounding in numerous characters, could surrender almost none for my
purpose, on account of their being woven into the general strain of
his narratives. Shelley, Landon, and Howitt, are eminently the poets
of flowers, while Darwin, with a whole _Botanic Garden_ before him,
and Mason, in his _English Garden_, gave me, I think, none that I
conceived fairly entitled to selection.
Few passages of any sort, except those hackneyed into adages,
could be gained from Milton, on account of the abstract, lofty,
and continuous flow of his diction. Coleridge has corresponding
peculiarities.
Keats and Shelley are the poets of the heavens. Byron, with faint
exceptions, does not describe a flower, or musical sound, or place of
residence.
The American poets, in contradistinction to their elder and superior
brethren of the fatherland, display a more marked devotion to nature,
with which a continual glow of religious sentiment aptly harmonizes.
But I am recalled by these lengthening paragraphs to my disclaimer,
and only wish that an abler and more philosophical pen than mine
could take my recent experience.
After a close examination of the earlier dramatic poets, though I
have rescued from them some exquisite gems, it seems to me far from
desirable that they should be brought forward as prominently as many
of their wordy commentators desire. A kind of pure instinct in the
British taste has placed Shakspeare without a brother on the throne.
The fathers of dramatic poetry acted according to their light, but
it was not the "true light." A few relics, selected with caution,
may honor their memory, but we should be careful while warning our
youth against the impurities of some modern poets, how we extol these
vulgarities of a darker moral age.
Before parting I must ask clemency for classing all my authors among
_Poets_, that great word so deservedly sacred, and to which I bow
with deep reverence; but the Parnassus of my Oracles has many steps,
and I cannot but feel kindly towards those, who sit gracefully
even on the lower platform, nor apprehend that they will do more
than look up deferentially to the laurel-crowned worthies at its
summit. Besides, it has been the character of my taste, or perhaps
philosophy, whenever literally or figuratively I gather a wreath of
flowers, to twine the wild blossom as heartily as the exotic, and
even insert a weed, if its color or contrast lends beauty to the
combination;--and thus with my Oracles.
CATALOGUE OF AUTHORS
QUOTED IN THE ORACLES.
ENGLISH.
AKENSIDE
ADDISON
BLOOMFIELD
BOWRING
BAYLEY
BARBAULD
BURNS
BEATTIE
BYRON
BOWLES
BAILLIE
BARTON
BROWNE
BUTLER
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER
CROLY
COWPER
CAREW
COWLEY
COLLINS
CONGREVE
CAMPBELL
CHATTERTON
CIBBER
CUNNINGHAM
COOK
COLERIDGE
CRABBE
CORNWALL
CUMBERLAND
CHAUCER
COLEMAN
CLARK
CHURCHILL
CARRINGTON
CRASHAW
DRYDEN
DARWIN
ELLIOTT
FERGUSON
FALCONER
GRAY
GOLDSMITH
GAY
GISBORNE
GRAHAME
HOWITT
HEMANS
HOME
HABINGTON
HUNT
HOGG
HAYLEY
HAMMOND
HASTINGS
HERBERT
HOOD
KING JAMES
JOHNSON
JONES
JONSON
KEATS
KEMBLE
LANDON
LEE
LAMB
LYTTLETON
MILLER
MOTHERWELL
MASSINGER
MOORE
MILTON
MITFORD
MORE
MASON
MURPHY
MASSINGER
MILMAN
MONTGOMERY
MACKENZIE
MACAULAY
MACNEIL
MATURIN
NORTON
OSSIAN
POLLOK
POPE
PRIOR
POMFRET
PERCY'S RELIQUES
RAMSAY
ROWE
ROGERS
ROSCOE
SHELLEY
SHAKSPEARE
SOUTHEY
SHERIDAN
SPENSER
SOTHEBY
STERLING
SHENSTONE
SWIFT
SCOTT
SMITH
SOMERVILLE
TAYLOR, JOHN
TENNENT
THOMSON
TIGHE
TALFOURD
TENNYSON
TOBIN
TAYLOR
THOM
VAUX
WORDSWORTH
WILSON
WILLIAMS
WHITE
WOTTON
WARTON
WATTS
WOLCOTT
WEBSTER
YOUNG
AMERICAN.
ALDRICH
BRYANT
BROOKS
BULFINCH
BENJAMIN
BURLEIGH
BANCROFT
BRAINARD
CHARLTON
CLARK
CAREY
COXE
CRANCH
CHILD
CRAFTS
DANA, MRS.
DAVIDSON, M.
DANA, R. H.
DRAKE
DAWES
DAVIDSON, L.
DINNIES
DICKSON
DOANE
EMBURY
EMERSON
ELLET
FOLLEN
FAIRFIELD
FAY
GALLAGHER
GOULD
GILMAN, S.
GOODRICH
GILMAN, C.
GREENE
HOLMES
HILL
HARVEY
HALLECK
HILLHOUSE
HALE
HOSMER
HARRINGTON
JAMES
LEE
LONGFELLOW
LOWELL
LEWIS
LUNT
MCLELLAN
MORRIS
MELLEN
MOISE
MILLER
NEAL
NOBLE
NACK
OSGOOD
PERCIVAL
PETERS
PIERPONT
PRENTICE
PEABODY
PIERSON
PIKE
PAYNE
SMITH
STREET
SIMMS
SARGENT
SANDS
SIGOURNEY
SPRAGUE
SCOTT
TUCKERMAN
WILLIS
WHITTIER
WARE, H.
WELLS
WELBY
MRS. WARE
WILDE
WHITMAN
WILCOX
WOODWORTH
The Game of the Oracles is composed of the following fourteen
Questions, with sixty Answers each, numbered.
What is your character?--Gentleman. Page 21
What is your character?--Lady. " 35
What is the personal appearance of your lady-love? " 51
What is the personal appearance of him who loves
you? " 69
What is the character of your lady-love? " 83
What is the character of him who loves you? " 97
What season of the year do you love? " 111
What hour do you love? " 129
What musical sounds do you love? " 147
What is your favorite flower? " 161
What gratifies your taste or affections? " 175
For what have you a distaste or aversion? " 193
Where or what will be your residence? " 209
What is your destiny? " 227
DIRECTIONS
FOR THE GAME OF THE ORACLES FROM THE POETS.
FOR A FORTUNE-TELLER WITH TWO PERSONS.
The person who holds the book asks, for instance, What is your
character? The individual questioned selects any one of the sixty
answers under that head, say No. 3, and the questioner reads aloud
the answer No. 3, which will be the Oracle.
FOR A ROUND GAME.
Where there are more than six persons present, it will be well
to select the following questions, as the game, connected with
the discussions to which it will probably give rise, will be too
protracted by introducing the whole, and the remaining questions are
of a sentimental rather than personal class.
What is your character?--Gentleman. Page 21
What is your character?--Lady. " 35
What is the personal appearance of your lady-love? " 51
What is the personal appearance of him who
loves you? " 69
What is the character of your lady-love? " 83
What is the character of him who loves you? " 97
Where or what will be your place of residence? " 209
What is your destiny? " 227
A questioner having been selected, he calls on each individual
to choose a number under the question proposed, and reads each
answer aloud as the number is mentioned. If the party agree to
the arrangement, the author of the Oracle can be demanded by the
questioner, and a forfeit paid in case of ignorance, or a premium
given for a correct answer.
If the person whose Oracle is read cannot tell the author, any one of
the party may be allowed a trial in turn, and receive the premium.
WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER?
GENTLEMAN.
All our knowledge is ourselves to know.
POPE.
Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us,
To see oursels as others see us;
It wad frae monie a blunder free us
And foolish notion!
BURNS.
WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER?
GENTLEMAN.
1. You kiss not where you wish to kill,
You feign not love where most you hate,
You break no sleep to win your will,
You wait not at the mighty's gate.
LORD VAUX.
2. E'en your failings lean to virtue's side.
GOLDSMITH.
3. Polite, yet virtuous, you have brought away
The manners, not the morals of the day.
COWPER.
4. _Thou_ art slow to science; the chart and letter'd page
Have in them no deep spell whereby thy spirit to engage;
But rather thou wouldst sail thy boat, or sound thy bugle-horn,
Or track the sportsman's triumph through the fields of waving corn,
Than o'er the ponderous histories of other ages bend,
Or dwell upon the sweetest page that ever poet penn'd.
MRS. NORTON.
5. A spider you may best be liken'd to,
Which creature is an adept, not alone
In workmanship of nice geometry,
But is beside a wary politician.
TAYLOR.
6. I know thee brave,--
A counsellor subtle, and a leader proved,--
With wisdom fitting for a king's right hand;
Firm in resolve, nor from thy purpose moved:
Then what lack'st thou to render thee beloved?
Thou'st wooed and won a gentle heart, and more,--
Hast trampled it to dust.
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.
7. I would rather wed a man of dough,
Such as some school-girl, when the pie is made,
To amuse her childish fancy, kneads at hazard
Out of the remnant paste.
JOHN TOBIN.
8. Thou, with a lofty soul, whose course
The thoughtless oft condemn,
Art touch'd by many airs from heaven
Which never breathe on them.
Moved too by many impulses,
Which they do never know,
Who round their earth-bound circles plod
The dusty paths below.
ALBERT G. GREENE.
9. You look the whole world in the face,
For you owe not any man.
LONGFELLOW.
10. You loiter, lounge, are lank and lazy,
Though nothing ails you, yet uneasy;
Your days insipid, dull, and tasteless,
Your nights unquiet, long, and restless;
And e'en your sports at balls and races,
Your galloping through public places,
Have sic parade, and pomp, and art,
The joy can scarcely reach the heart.
BURNS--_Twa Dogs_.
11. Thou'st never bent at glory's shrine,
To wealth thou'st never bow'd the knee,
Beauty has heard no vows of thine,
Thou lovest _ease_.
R. H. WILDE.
12. A gentleman of all Temperance.
_Measure for Measure._
13. You are positive and fretful,
Heedless, ignorant, forgetful.
SWIFT.
14. There is one rare, strange virtue in thy speeches,
The secret of their mastery--they're short.
HALLECK.
15. For contemplation framed,
Shy and unpractised in the strife of phrase,
Yours is the language of the heavens, the power,
The thought, the image, and the _silent_ joy.
Words are but under-agents in your soul.
WORDSWORTH.
16. You take delight in others' excellence,
A gift which nature rarely doth dispense;
Of all that breathe, 'tis you, perhaps, alone,
Would be well pleased to see yourself outdone.
YOUNG--_Epistles_.
17. You are the Punch to stir up trouble,
You wriggle, fidge, and make a riot,
Put all your brother puppets out.
SWIFT.
18. You'd shake hands with a king upon his throne,
And think it kindness to his majesty.
HALLECK.
19. The meanest thing, earth's feeblest worm,
You fear to scorn or hate;
But honor in a peasant's form
The equal of the great.
EBENEZER ELLIOTT.
20. You may be thrown among the gay and reckless sons of life,
But will not love the revel scene or head the brawling strife.
ELIZA COOK.
21. You are one,
Who can play off your smiles and courtesies
To every lady, of her lap-dog tired,
Who wants a plaything.
SOUTHEY.
22. Come, rouse thee now;--I know thy mind,
And would its strength awaken;
Proud, gifted, noble, ardent, kind.
ANNA P. DINNIES.
23. In choice
Of morsels for the body, nice are you,
And scrupulous;--
And every composition know
Of cookery.
POLLOK--_Course of Time_.
24. A man thou seem'st of cheerful yesterdays,
And confident to-morrows.
WORDSWORTH.
25. Sir, I confess you to be one well read
In men and manners, and that usually
The most ungovern'd persons, you being present,
Rather subject themselves unto your censure,
Than give you least occasion of distaste,
By making you the subject of their mirth.
BEN JONSON.
26. When nae real ills perplex you,
You make enow yoursel' to vex you.
BURNS.
27. You speak an infinite deal of nothing.
_Merchant of Venice._
28. Calm, serene,
Your thoughts are clear and honest, and your words,
Still chosen most gently, are not yet disguised
To please the ear of tingling vanity.
W. G. SIMMS.
29. Large is your bounty, and your soul sincere;
Heaven does a recompense as largely send:
You give to misery all you have--a tear;
You gain from heaven, 'tis all you ask--a friend.
GRAY.
30. You worship God with inward zeal, and serve him in each deed;
Yet will not blame another's faith, nor have one martyr bleed.
ELIZA COOK.
31. Silent when glad, affectionate though shy;
And now your look is most demurely sad;
And now you laugh aloud, yet none know why,--
Some deem you wondrous wise, and some believe you mad.
BEATTIE--_Minstrel_.
32. You act upon the prudent plan,
"Say little, and hear all you can:"
Safe policy, but hateful.
COWPER.
33. You are a gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable discourse,
generally allowed for your many warlike, courtlike, and learned
preparations.
_Merry Wives of Windsor._
34. So gentle, yet so brisk, so wondrous sweet,
Just fit to prattle at a lady's feet.
CHURCHILL.
35. Lord of yourself, though not of lands,
You, having nothing, yet have all.
SIR HENRY WOTTON.
36. No change comes o'er thy noble brow,
Though ruin is around thee;
Thine eye-beam burns as proudly now
As when the laurel crown'd thee.
MRS. CHILD.
37. Some have too much, yet still they crave;
You little have, yet seek no more;
They are but poor, though much they have,
And you are rich with little store.
They poor, you rich; they beg, you give;
They lack, you lend; they pine, you live.
LORD VAUX.
38. With every shifting gale your course you ply,
Forever sunk too low or borne too high.
POPE.
39. You will not bow unto the common things
Men make their idols. You will stand apart
From common men; your sensual appetite
Shall be subservient to your loftier soul.
MARY HOWITT.
40. Sloth, the nurse of vices,
And rust of action, is a stranger to you.
MASSINGER.
41. The worth of the three kingdoms I defy
To lower you to the standard of a lie.
COWPER.
42. I have some comfort in this fellow;
He hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion
Is perfect gallows.
_Tempest._
43. You lacke no witte,
You speke whatte bee the trouthe,
And whatte all see is ryghte.
ROWLEY--(_Chatterton._)
44. A man resolved and steady to his trust,
Inflexible to ill, and obstinately just.
DR. WATTS.
45. I know thy generous temper well;
Fling but the appearance of dishonor on it,
It straight takes fire, and mounts into a blaze.
ADDISON--_Cato._
46. Just like a snail through life's dull path you creep,
Your whole existence but a waking sleep.
R. M. CHARLTON.
47. Your nature is,
That you incline to hope rather than fear,
And gladly banish squint suspicion.
MILTON--_Comus._
48. A right tender heart,
Melting and easy, yielding to impression,
And catching the soft flame from each new beauty.
ROWE--_Jane Shore._
49. The ruby lip, the sparkling eye,
All unavailing prove;
Wandering from fair to fair you fly,
But will not learn to love.
DR. S. H. DICKSON.
50. Never credit me, if I don't think thee more stupid, yea, more
obtusely, intensely, and impenetrably thick-skulled, than ever
man or woman was before thee.
FANNY KEMBLE--_Star of Seville._
51. Some deem you are a surly man,
But _they_ know not your griefs and fears,
How you have been beloved by one,
Whose image lies "too deep for tears."
THOMAS MILLER.
52. One charm,
We in your graceful character observe;
That though your passions burn with high impatience,
And sometimes, from a noble heat of nature,
Are ready to fly off, yet the least check
Of ruling reason brings them back to temper,
And gentle softness.
THOMSON--_Tancred and Sigismunda._
53. You are the fellow at the chimney corner,
Who keeps the fire alive that warms us all.
FANNY KEMBLE.
54. You love, and would be loved again;
Do but confess it;--you possess a soul,
That what it wishes, wishes ardently.
You would believe you hated, had you power
To love with moderation
HILL--_Zara_.
55. A soul
Too great, too just, too noble to be happy.
CIBBER--_Zimena_.
56. Though straiter bounds your fortune does confine,
In your large heart is found a wealthy mine
WALLER.
57. Your heart has settled in a sea of pride,
Till every part is cold and petrified.
MISS H. F. GOULD.
58. Your mirth is the pure spirits of various wit,
Yet never doth your God or friends forget;
And when deep talk and wisdom come in view,
Retires, and gives to them their due
COWLEY.
59. You are young, and of
That mould which throws out heroes; fair in favor,
And doubtlessly, with such a form and heart,
Would look into the fiery eyes of war.
BYRON--_Werner_.
60. Calm as evening skies
Is your pure mind, and lighted up with hopes
That open heaven.
THOMSON--_Tancred and Sigismunda_.
WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER?
LADY.
NEVILL.--Know'st thou how slight a thing a woman is?
SCUDMORE.--Yes; and how serious too.
NATHANIEL FIELD--
_Woman's a Weathercock. A Comedy_.
From Lamb's Specimens of Old Dramatic Poets.
WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER?
LADY.
1. None know thee but to love thee,
None name thee but to praise.
HALLECK.
2. Oh, thou wilt ever be what now thou art,
Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring;
As fair in form, as warm, yet pure in heart,
Love's image upon earth without its sting.
BYRON.
3. Ever o'er thy soul a shadow lies,
Still darkest, when life wears the sunniest skies;
And even when with bliss thy heart beats high,
The swell subsides into a plaintive sigh.
MRS. PIERSON.
4. Sometimes will you laugh, and sometimes cry,
Then sudden you wax wroth, and all you know not why.
THOMSON.
5. Thou doest little kindnesses,
Which most leave undone or despise;
For naught that sets one heart at ease,
And giveth happiness or peace,
Is low esteemed in thy eyes.
JAMES R. LOWELL.
6. Thou art merry and free,
Thou carest for naebody,
If naebody care for thee.
BURNS.
7. Women love you, that you are a woman
More worth than any man; men, that you are
The rarest of all women.
_Winter's Tale._
8. Not only good and kind,
But strong and elevated is thy mind;
A spirit that with noble pride
Can look superior down
On fortune's smile or frown;
That can, without regret or pain,
To virtue's lowest duty sacrifice.
LORD LYTTLETON.
9. At table you are scrupulous withal;
No morsel from your lips do you let fall,
Nor in your sauce will dip your fingers deep.
Well can you carry a morsel, and well keep,
That not a drop e'er falls upon your breast.
In courtesy your pleasure much doth rest.
Your dainty upper lip you wipe so clean,
That in your cup there is no farthing seen
Of grease, when you have drunk; and for your meat,
Full seemly bend you forward on your seat.
CHAUCER.
10. You have a natural, wise sincerity,
A simple truthfulness;
And though yourself not unacquaint with care,
Have in your heart wide room.
JAMES R. LOWELL.
11. What you do
Still betters what is done; when you speak, sweet,
We'd have you do it ever.
_Winter's Tale._
12. An inward light to guide thee,
Unto thy soul is given,
Pure and serene as its divine
Original in heaven.
JAMES ALDRICH.
13. You have no gift at all in shrewishness,
You are a right woman for your cowardice.
_Midsummer Night's Dream._
14. The world has won thee, lady, and thy joys
Are placed in trifles, fashions, follies, toys.
CRABBE.
15. Mishap goes o'er thee like a summer cloud;
Cares thou hast none, and they who stand to hear thee,
Catch the infection and forget their own.
ROGERS--_Italy_.
16. Nature for her favorite child,
In thee hath temper'd so her clay,
That every hour thy heart runs wild,
Yet never once doth go astray.
WORDSWORTH.
17. Your only labor is to kill the time,
And labor dire it is, and weary wo;
You sit, you loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme,
Then rising, sudden to the glass you go.
THOMSON.
18. You will die if ---- love you not; and you will die ere you make
your love known; and you will die if he woo you, rather than
abate one breath of your crossness.
_Much Ado About Nothing._
19. It cannot bend thy lofty brow,
Though friends and foes depart,
The car of fate may o'er thee roll,
Nor crush thy Roman heart.
MRS. CHILD.
20. You wash, wring, brew, bake, scour, dress meat and drink, make
the beds, and do all yourself.
_Merry Wives of Windsor._
21. To tend
From good to better--thence to best,
Grateful you drink life's cup, then bend
Unmurmuring to your bed of rest;
You pluck the flowers that around you blow,
Scattering their fragrance as you go.
BOWRING.
22. Rich in love
And sweet humanity, you will be yourself,
To the degree that you desire, beloved.
WORDSWORTH.
23. You little care what others do,
And where they go, and what they say;
Your bliss all inward, and your own,
Would only tarnish'd be by being shown.
The talking, restless world shall see,
Spite of the world, you'll happy be;
But none shall know,
How much you are so,
Save only _Love_.
MRS. BARBAULD.
24. Scared at thy frown, abash'd will fly
Self-pleasing folly's idle brood,
Wild laughter, noise, and thoughtless joy,
And leave thee leisure to be good
GRAY.
25. A happy lot be thine, and larger light
Await thee there;--for thou hast bow'd thy will
In cheerful homage to the rule of right,
And lovest all, and doest good for ill.
BRYANT.
26. In you are youth, beauty, and humble port,
Bounty, richesse, and womanly feature;
God better knows than my pen can report,
Wisdom, largesse, estate and cunning sure.
In every point so guided is your measure,
In word, in deed, in shape, in countenance,
That nature could no more her child advance.
_King James I._
27. You do incline to sadness, and oft-times
Not knowing why.
_Cymbaline._
28. You are a riddle,
Which he who solved the sphinx's would die guessing!
JOHN TOBIN.
29. You have train'd your spirit to forgive,
As you hope to be forgiven;
And you live on earth as they should live
Whose hopes and home are heaven.
BOWRING.
30. A reasonable woman;
Fair without vanity, rich without pride,
Discreet though witty, learned yet very humble.
JOHN TOBIN.
31. There's little of the melancholy in you; you are
never sad but when you sleep, and not even sad
then; for I have heard that you often dream of
mischief, and wake yourself with laughing.
_Much Ado About Nothing._
32. Like a summer storm awhile you're cloudy,
Burst out in thunder and impetuous showers,
But straight the sun of beauty dawns abroad,
And all the fair horizon is serene.
NICHOLAS ROWE.
33. Think not the good,
The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done
Shall die forgotten all; the poor, the prisoner,
The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow,
Who daily own the bounty of thy hand,
Shall cry to heaven and pull a blessing on thee.
GEORGE LILLO.
34. A friend to the hen-coop you often are found;
When the rat or the weasel are prowling around,
Or chick become motherless strays from the wing,
A mother are you to the motherless thing.
MARIA JAMES.
35. A' the day you spier what news kind neibor bodies bring.
MOTHERWELL.
36. Innocence and virgin modesty,
A virtue and a consciousness of worth
That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won.
MILTON--_Paradise Lost_.
37. It is your pleasure sweetly to complain,
And to be taken with a sudden pain;
Then up you start, all ecstasy and bliss,
And are, sweet soul, just as sincere in this.
Oh, how you roll your charming eyes in spite,
And look delightfully with all your might.
DR. YOUNG--_Love of Fame_.
38. Gracious to all; but where your love is due
So fast, so faithful, loyal, just, and true,
That a bold hand as soon might hope to force
The rolling light of heaven, as stay your course.
WALLER.
39. Thou medley of contraries!
We trust thee, yet we doubt thee,
Our darkness and our light;
Night would be day without thee,
And day, without thee, night.
JUDGE CHARLTON.
40. You are a soul so white and so chaste,
As nothing called foul
Dares approach with a blot,
Or any least spot;
But still you control
Or make your own lot,
Preserving love pure as it first was begot.
BEN JONSON.
41. The power you wield has its best spells in love,
And gentleness, and thought; never in scorn,
Or any wayward impulse or caprice.
W. G. SIMMS.
42. You love to listen better than to talk,
And, rather than be gadding, would sit quiet;--
Hate cards, and cordials.
TOBIN.
43. You do not love
As _men_ love, who love often. Yours has been
A single sentiment for one alone,
An all-engrossing passion, which doth live
On hope and faith.
ELIZABETH BOGART.
44. Thou talkest well, but talking is thy privilege;
'Tis all the boasted courage of thy sex.
NICHOLAS ROWE--_Tamerlane_.
45. Thoughts go sporting through your mind
Like children among flowers,
And deeds of gentle goodness are
The measure of your hours.
In soul or face you bear no trace
Of one from Eden driven,
But, like the rainbow, seem, though born
Of earth, a part of heaven!
GEORGE HILL.
46. All things thou art by turns, from wrath to love,
From the queen eagle, to the vestal dove.
BARRY CORNWALL.
47. You've turn'd up your nose at the short,
And cast down your eyes at the tall;
But then you just did it in sport,
And now you've no lover at all.
G. P. MORRIS.
48. Alive to feel and curious to explore
Each distant object of refined distress.
WHITEHEAD--_Roman Father_.
49. You have a soul
Of god-like mould, intrepid and commanding:
But you have passions which outstrip the wind,
And tear your virtues up.
CONGREVE--_Mourning Bride_.
50. There's not a lovely transient thing
But brings thee to our mind!
The rainbow, or the fragile flower,
Sweet summer's fading joys,
The waning moon, the dying day,
The passing glories of the clouds,
The leaf that brightens as it falls,
The wild tones of the Æolian harp,
All tell some touching tale of thee;
There's not a tender lovely thing
But brings thee to our mind.
MRS. FOLLEN.
51. 'Tis not your part,
Out of your fond misgivings, to perplex
The fortunes of the man to whom you cleave;
'Tis yours to weave all that you have of fair
And bright, in the dark meshes of their web.
TALFOURD--_Ion_.
52. In our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please;
When pain and sickness rend the brow,
A ministering angel thou.
SCOTT.
53. Ever art thou fair,
Ev'n in the city's gaudy tumult, fair;
Yet he who marks thee only as the charm
And worship of gay crowds, in festive halls,
Knows but thy living image, not thy soul,
Joyless in that cold pomp.
DR. BROWN--_Bower of Spring_.
54. Thine is the heart that is gentle and kind,
And light as the feather that sports in the wind.
HOGG--_Queen's Wake_.
55. Your person is a paradise, and your soul the cherub to guard it.
DRYDEN.
56. Your two red lips _affected_ zephyrs blow,
To cool the Hyson, and inflame the beau;
While one white finger and a thumb conspire
To lift the cup, and make the world admire.
YOUNG.
57. More than a sermon love you the touch'd string,
You love to tinkling tunes your feet to fling.
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.
58. Coquet and coy at once your air,
Both studied, though both seem neglected;
Careless you are with artful care,
Affecting to seem unaffected.
CONGREVE.
59. Your sweet humor
Is easy as a calm, and peaceful too.
All your affections like the dew on roses,--
Fair as the flowers themselves, as sweet and gentle.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER--_The Pilgrim_.
60. Grateful we find you, patient of control;
A most bewitching gentleness of soul
Makes pleasure of what work you have to do.
BLOOMFIELD--_The Miller's Maid_.
WHAT IS THE PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF YOUR LADY-LOVE?
Must you have my picture?
You will enjoin me to a strange punishment.
With what a compell'd face a woman sits
While she is drawing! I have noted divers
Either to fain smiles, or suck in the lips,
To have a little mouth; ruffle the cheeks,
To have the dimple seen; and so disorder
The face with affectation, at next sitting
It has not been the same.
--But indeed
If ever I would have mine drawn to the life,
I would have a painter steal it at such a time
I were devoutly kneeling at my prayers;
There is then a heavenly beauty in't, the _soul_
Moves in the superficies.
JOHN WEBSTER--
_The Devil's Law Case. A Tragi-Comedy._
From Lamb's Specimens of Dramatic Poets.
WHAT IS THE PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF YOUR LADY-LOVE?
1. Her eyes are shadowy, full of thought and prayer,
And with long lashes o'er a white rose cheek
Drooping.
MRS. HEMANS.
2. A thing all lightness, life, and glee,
One of the shapes we seem
To meet in visions of the night,
And should they greet our waking sight,
Imagine that we dream.
GEORGE HILL.
3. A lovelier nymph the pencil never drew;
For the fond Graces form'd her easy mien,
And heaven's soft azure in her eye is seen.
She seems a rose-bud when it first receives
The genial sun in its expanding leaves.
HAYLEY--_Triumphs of Temper_.
4. Eyes
As tender as the blue of weeping skies,
Yet sunny in their radiance as that blue,
When sunset glitters on its falling dew.
JOHN NEAL.
5. She bends beneath the weight of dress,
The stiffen'd robes, which spoil her easy mien,
And art mistaken makes her beauty less,
While still it hides some beauties better seen.
HAMMOND--_Love Elegies_.
6. There is a sweetness in her upturn'd eyes,
A tearful lustre, such as fancy lends
To the Madonna, and a soft surprise,
As if they found strange beauty in the air.
PARK BENJAMIN.
7. Her soft, clear eyes, deep in their tenderness,
Reflect all beautiful and kindly things.
She would seem infantile, but that her brow
In lilied majesty uptowers, and tells
That lofty thoughts and chasten'd pride are there.
MRS. GILMAN.
8. Oh, the words
Laugh on her lips; the motion of her smiles
Showers beauty, as the air-caressed spray
The dews of morning; and her stately steps
Are light, as though a winged angel trod
Over earth's flowers, and fear'd to brush away
Their delicate hues.
MILMAN--_Fazio_.
9. She has ane e'e, she has but ane,
The cat has twa the very color;
Five rusty teeth forbye a stump,
A clapper tongue would deave a miller.
BURNS.
10. She lacks the beauty of a "damask skin,"
But there are roses lying near at hand,
To spring unto her cheek; oft from within
They come, called up at feeling's high command,
And on the glowing surface long remain.
MRS. M. S. B. DANA.
11. If on her we see display'd
Pendent gems, and rich brocade,
If her chintz with less expense
Flows in easy negligence,
If she strikes the vocal strings,
If she's silent, speaks, or sings,
If she sit, or if she move,
Still we love and we approve.
DR. JOHNSON.
12. Her laugh is like a fairy's laugh,
So musical and sweet;
Her foot is like a fairy's foot,
So dainty and so fleet.
Her smile is fitful sunshine,
Her hand is dimpled snow,
Her lip a very rose-bud
In sweetness and in glow.
MRS. OSGOOD.
13. A thoughtful and a quiet grace,
Though happy still;--yet chance distress
Hath left a pensive loveliness;
Fancy hath tamed her fairy gleams,
And her heart broods o'er home-born dreams.
WILSON.
14. Her swollen eyes are much disfigured,
And her faire face with tears
Is foully blubbered.
SPENSER.
15. A downcast eye, repentant of the pain
That its mild light creates.
KEATS.
16. Not fairer grows the lily of the vale,
Whose bosom opens to the vernal gale;
While health that rises with the new-born day,
Breathes o'er her cheek the softest blush of May.
FALCONER--_Shipwreck_.
17. Fairest where all is beautiful and bright!
With what a grace she glides among the flowers
That smile around her, bowing at her touch.
GALLAGHER.
18. On her cheek an autumn flush
Deeply ripens;--such a blush
In the midst of brown was born,
Like red poppies grown with corn.
Around her eyes her tresses lay,
Which are blackest, none can say;
But long lashes veil a light,
That had else been all too bright.
HOOD.
19. Ne in her speach, ne in her haviour
Is lightnesse seene, or looser vanitie;
But gratious womanhood and gravitie,
Above the reason of her youthly yeares.
Her golden locks she roundly doth uptye,
In braided trammels, that ne looser heares
Do out of order stray about her daintie eares.
SPENSER.
20. A silver line, that from the brow to the crown,
And in the middle, parts the braided hair,
Just serves to show how delicate a soil
The golden harvest grows in; while those eyes,
Soft and capacious as a cloudless sky,
Whose azure depth their colour emulates,
Must needs be conversant with upward looks,
Prayer's voiceless service.
WORDSWORTH.
21. Half the charms that deck her face,
Arise from powder, shreds, and lace.
GOLDSMITH.
22. Time from her form has ta'en away but little of its grace,
His touch of thought hath dignified the beauty of her face.
BAYLEY.
23. 'Tis strange,
That though you study long, you cannot tell
The color of her eye, that seems to change,
Beneath the ivory lid, from brilliant black
To liquid hazel, then to full soft gray,
Fast melting into violet.
MISS M. E. LEE.
24. Her face is heaven's bow in showers. Her dark hair flows round it
like streaming clouds.
OSSIAN.
25. She has an innocently downcast look,
And when she raises up her eyes of blue,
It seems as if her features were a book,
Where sweet affection letters love for you.
RUFUS DAWES.
26. Indeed she has a marvellous white hand,
I must needs confess.
_Troilus and Cressida._
27. I never saw a crowned queen,
With such a noble air,
So angel-like, so womanly,
As is your lady fair.
MARY HOWITT.
28. Around her playful lips do glitter
Heat lightnings of a girlish scorn,
Harmless they are, for nothing bitter
In that dear heart was ever born.
That merry heart, that cannot lie
Within its warm nest quietly,
But ever from the full dark eye
Is looking kindly, night and morn.
J. R. LOWELL.
29. Oh, her glance is the brightest that ever has shone,
And the lustre of love's on her cheek;
But all the bewildering enchantment is gone
The moment you hear her speak.
MRS. ELLET.
30. The rose, with faint and feeble streak,
So slightly marks the maiden's cheek,
That you would say her hue is pale;
But if she face the Southern gale,
Or speaks, or sings, or quicker moves,
Or hears the praise of those she loves,
Or when of interest is express'd
Aught that wakes feeling in her breast,
The mantling blood in ready play
Rivals the blush of opening day.
SCOTT--_Rokeby_.
31. She dresses aye sae clean and neat,
Both decent and genteel;
And then there's something in her gait
Gars ony dress look weel.
BURNS.
32. She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright,
Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
BYRON.
33. Eyes of the gray,
The soft gray of the brooding dove,
Full of the sweet and tender ray
Of holy love.
MRS. NORTON.
34. I saw her hand--she has a leathern hand,
A freestone color'd hand. I verily did think
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hand;
She has a housewife's hand!
_As You Like It._
35. The fashion of her gracefulness is not a follow'd rule,
And her effervescent sprightliness was never taught at school;
Her words are all peculiar, like the fairy's that spoke pearls,
And her tone is ever sweetest 'mid the cadences of girls.
WILLIS.
36. There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip;
Nay, her foot speaks.
_Troilus and Cressida._
37. She has that changing color on the cheek,
Which speaks the heart so well; those deep blue eyes,
Like summer's darkest sky, yet not so glad;
They are too passionate for happiness.
MISS LANDON.
38. There is a light around her brow,
A holiness in those dark eyes,
Which show, though wandering earthward now,
Her spirit's home is in the skies.
MOORE.
39. A still, sweet, placid, moonlight face,
And slightly nonchalant,
Which seems to hold a middle place
Between one's love and aunt.
Where childhood's star has left a ray
In woman's summer sky,
As morning's dew and blushing day
On fruit and blossom lie.
O. W. HOLMES.
40. A bright, frank brow, that has not learn'd to blush at gaze of man.
MACAULAY--_Lays of Ancient Rome_.
41. If to her share some female errors fall,
Look in her face, and you'll forget them all.
HAYLEY--_Triumphs of Temper_.
42. Quips, and cranks, and playful wiles,
Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek.
MILTON--_Comus_.
43. Excellently done, if God did all.
_Twelfth Night._
44. A ruby lip
First dawns; then glows the young cheek's deeper hue,
Yet delicate as roses when they dip
Their odorous blossoms in the morning dew.
Then beam the eyes, twin stars of living blue,
Half shaded by the curls of glossy hair,
That turn to gold in the West's golden glare.
CROLY--_Angel of the World_.
45. Love glower'd[A] when he saw her bonnie dark e'e,
'An swore by heaven's grace,
He ne'er had seen, nor thought to see,
Since e'er he left the Paphian lea,
Mair lovely a dwallin' place.
WILLIAM THOM.
[A] Stared with surprise.
46. An angel-face! its sunny "wealth of hair,"
In radiant ripples, bathes the graceful throat,
And dimpled shoulders; round the rosy curve
Of the sweet mouth, a smile seems wandering ever,
While in the depths of azure fire that gleams
Beneath the drooping lashes, sleeps a world
Of eloquent meaning--passionate, but pure;
Dreamy, subdued, but O, how beautiful!
MRS. OSGOOD.
47. Do but look in her eyes, they do light
All that Love's world compriseth:
Do but look on her hair, it is bright
As Love's star when it riseth!
Do but mark, her forehead's smoother
Than words that sooth her,
And from her arched brows such a grace
Sheds itself through the face,
As alone there triumphs to the life,
All the gain, all the good, of the elements at strife.
BEN JONSON.
48. When first you look upon her face,
You little note, beside
The timidness, that still betrays
The beauties it would hide;
But, one by one, they look out from
Her blushes and her eyes,
And still the last the loveliest,
Like stars from twilight skies.
GEORGE HILL.
49. Endearing! endearing!
Why so endearing
Are those dark lustrous eyes,
Through their silk fringe peering?
They love thee! they love thee!
Deeply, sincerely;
And more than aught else on earth,
Thou lov'st them dearly.
MOTHERWELL.
50. In face an angel, but in soul a cat!
DR. WOLCOTT--_Peter Pindar_.
51. Her feet beat witchcraft as she heads the dance,
Lads, like a garland, hem her round about,
While Love rains on them from her dark eye-glance.
The maidens near her, tittering, take their stance,
And on her swan-white neck, and snowy arms,
Her small and nimble feet, they look askance;
The hoary fiddler, as he listens, warms,
And draws a lustier bow, and gazes on her charms.
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.
52. A cheek, fair
And delicate as rose-leaf newly blown--
A brow like marble--lofty, and profuse
With the rich brown of her o'ergathering hair.
W. G. SIMMS.
53. Such her beauty, as no arts
Have enrich'd with borrow'd grace;
Her high birth no pride imparts,
For she blushes in her place.
Folly boasts a glorious blood,
She is noblest, being good.
HABINGTON.
54. O'er her features steal, serenely mild,
The trembling sanctity of woman's truth,
Her modesty, and simpleness, and grace;
Yet those who deeper scan the human face,
Amid the trial-hour of fear or ruth,
May clearly read, upon its heaven-writ scroll,
That high and firm resolve, which nerved the Roman soul.
MRS. SIGOURNEY.
55. On her forehead sitteth pride,
Crown'd with scorn, and falcon-eyed;
But she beneath, methinks, doth twine
Silken smiles, that seem divine.
Can such smiles be false and cold?
Can she, will she wed for gold?
BARRY CORNWALL.
56. Oh! her beauty is fair to see,
But still and steadfast is her e'e,
And the soft desire of maiden's e'en,
In that mild face can never be seen.
Her seymat is the lily flower,
And her cheek the moss-rose in a shower,
And her voice, like the distant melody
That floats along the twilight sea.
But she lo'es to raike the lonely glen,
And keep afar frae the haunts o' men.
HOGG--_Queen's Wake_.
57. 'Tis not her eye or lip we beauty call,
But the joint force and full result of all.
POPE.
58. Her face is very beautiful, and mirth
Is native on her lip; but ever, now,
As a sweet tone delighteth her, the smile
Goes melting into sadness, and the lash
Droops gently to her eye, as if it knew
Affection was too chaste a thing for mirth.
WILLIS.
59. Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have touch'd it?
Have you mark'd but the fall o' the snow,
Before the soil hath smutch'd it?
Have you felt the wool of the beaver?
Or swan's-down ever?
Or have smelt o' the bud of the brier?
Or the nard in the fire?
Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she!
BEN JONSON.
60. Her nose is crook'd, and turn'd outwarde,
Her chin stands all awry;
A worse formed lady than she is,
Was never seen with eye.
Her haires like serpents cling aboute
Her cheekes of deadlye hewe;
A worse form'd ladye than she is
No man mote ever view.
PERCY'S RELIQUES--_The Marriage of Sir Gawaine_.
WHAT IS THE PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF HIM WHO LOVES YOU?
'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour, to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table; heart, too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favor.
_All's Well That Ends Well._
I will drop in his way some obscure epistle of love; wherein, by the
color of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait,
the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find
himself most feelingly personated.
_Twelfth Night._
WHAT IS THE PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF HIM WHO LOVES YOU?
1. On his bold visage middle age
Has slightly press'd its signet sage,
Yet has not quench'd the open truth
And fiery vehemence of youth.
SCOTT--_Lady of the Lake_.
2. He is young
And eminently beautiful, and life
Mantles in eloquent fulness on his lip,
And sparkles in his glance, and in his mien
There is a gracious pride that every eye
Follows with benisons.
WILLIS.
3. He hath but a little wee face, with a little yellow beard.
_Merry Wives of Windsor._
4. The high-born eye,
That checks low mirth, but lacks not courtesy.
BYRON--_Corsair_.
5. Locks jet black, and clustering round a face
Open as day, and full of manly daring.
ROGERS--_Italy_.
6. His face is keen as is the wind
That cuts along the hawthorn fence,
A motley air
Of courage and of impudence.
WORDSWORTH.
7. Oh what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!
_Twelfth Night._
8. A goodly person, and can manage faire
His stubborn steed,
Who under him doth trample in the air,
And chafe, that any on his back should sit.
SPENSER.
9. His waggish face, that speaks a soul jocose,
Seems t'have been cast i' the mould of fun and glee;
And on the bridge of his well-arched nose,
Sits laughter plumed, and white-wing'd jollity.
TENNENT--_Anster Fair_.
10. The glow of temperance o'er his cheek is spread,
Where the soft down half veils the chasten'd red.
CRABBE.
11. Readable as open book;
And much of easy dignity there lies
In the frank lifting of his cordial eyes.
LEIGH HUNT--_Rimini_.
12. Underneath that face, like summer ocean's,
Its lip as moveless, and its cheek as clear,
Slumbers a whirlwind of the heart's emotions,
Love, hatred, pride, hope, sorrow--all save fear.
HALLECK.
13. Singing he is, or fluting all the day;
He is as fresh as is the month of May.
He can songs make, and well indite,
Jouste, and eke dance, and well portray and write;
Courteous he is, lowly and serviceable,
And carveth for his father at the table.
CHAUCER.
14. Does he not hold up his head, as it were, and strut in his gait?
_Merry Wives of Windsor._
15. Sober he seems, and very sagely sad,
And to the ground his eyes are lowly bent.
Simple in show.
SPENSER--_Fairy Queen_.
16. He is the deuce among the girls,
A thing of foppery and ton, of whiskers and of curls.
ALBERT PIKE.
17. A dainty gentleman,
His sleepy eyes half closed, and countenance
To no expression stronger than may suit
A simper, capable of being turn'd.
SOUTHEY.
18. Contempt contracts his face, a smile is on his dark-brown cheek,
his red eye rolls half concealed beneath his shaggy brows.
OSSIAN.