Around her shone
The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone:
The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the music breathing from her face,
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole--
And, oh! that eye was in itself a soul!
_The Bride of Abydos, Canto 1._
Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto 1._
She was a form of life and light,
That, seen, became a part of sight;
And rose wher'er I turned mine eye,
The morning-star of memory!
_The Giaour._
You know, or ought to know, enough of women,
Since you have studied, them so steadily,
That what they ask in aught that touches on
The heart, is dearer to their feelings or
Their fancy than the whole external world.
_Sardanapalus, A. 4._
Oh! too convincing--dangerously dear--
In woman's eye the unanswerable tear!
That weapon of her weakness she can wield
To save, subdue--at once her spear and shield.
_Corsair, Canto 2._
Who hath not proved how feebly words essay
To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess
The might--the majesty of loveliness?
_Bride of Abydos, Canto 1._
So bright the tear in beauty's eye,
Love half regrets to kiss it dry;
So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
Even pity scarce can wish it less!
_The Bride of Abydos, Canto 1._
Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow
Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth;
Her eyebrow's shape was like the aërial bow
Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth
Mounting, at times to a transparent glow,
As if her veins ran lightning.
_Don Juan, Canto 1._
Man's love is of man's life a thing apart,
Is woman's whole existence.
_Don Juan, Canto 1._
Her very smile was haughty, though so sweet;
Her very nod was not an inclination;
There was a self-will even in her small feet,
As though they were quite conscious of her station;--
* * * * *
But nature teaches more than power can spoil,
And when a strong although a strange sensation
Moves--female hearts are such a genial soil
For kinder feelings, whatsoe'er their nation.
They naturally pour the "wine and oil,"
Samaritans in every situation.
_Don Juan, Canto 5._
The earth has nothing like a she epistle,
And hardly heaven--because it never ends.
I love the mystery of a female missal,
Which like a creed ne'er says all it intends.
_Don Juan, Canto 13._
Her chief resource was in her own high spirit,
Which judged mankind at their due estimation;
And for coquetry, she disdain'd to wear it:
Secure of admiration, its impression
Was faint, as of an every-day possession.
_Don Juan, Canto 13._
An eye's an eye, and whether black or blue,
Is no great matter, so 'tis in request.
'Tis nonsense to dispute about a hue,
The kindest may be taken as a test.
The fair sex should be always fair; and no man
Till thirty, should perceive there's a plain woman.
_Beppo._
She was not violently lively, but
Stole on your spirit like a May-day breaking;
Her eyes were not too sparkling, yet, half shut,
They put beholders in a tender taking.
_Don Juan, Canto 6._
The very first
Of human life must spring from woman's breast,
Your first small words are taught you from her lips,
Your first tears quench'd by her, and your last sighs
Too often breathed out in a woman's hearing,
When men have shrunk from the ignoble care
Of watching the last hour of him who led them.
_Sardanapalus, A. 1._
Soft, as the memory of buried love;
Pure, as the prayer which childhood wafts above
Was she.
_Bride of Abydos; Canto 1._
She was a soft landscape of mild earth,
Where all was harmony, and calm and quiet,
Luxuriant, budding; cheerful without mirth,
Which, if not happiness, is more nigh it
Than are your mighty passions and so forth,
Which some call "the sublime": I wish they'd try it;
I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women,
And pity lovers rather more than seamen.
_Don Juan, Canto 6._
The tender blue of that large loving eye.
_The Corsair, Canto 1._
Now Laura moves along the joyous crowd,
Smiles in her eyes, and simpers on her lips;
To some she whispers, others speaks aloud;
To some she curtsies, and to some she dips;
Complains of warmth, and this complaint avow'd,
Her lover brings the lemonade,--she sips:
She then surveys, condemns, but pities still
Her dearest friends for being drest so ill.
One had false curls, another too much paint,
A third--where did she buy that frightful turban?
A fourth's so pale she fears she's going to faint,
A fifth's look's vulgar, dowdyish, and suburban,
A sixth's white silk has got a yellow tint,
A seventh's thin muslin surely will be her bane,
And lo! an eighth appears,--I'll see no more!
For fear, like Banquo's kings, they reach a score.
_Beppo._
She was blooming still, had made the best
Of time, and time return'd the compliment,
And treated her genteely, so that, drest,
She look'd extremely well where'er she went;
A pretty woman is a welcome guest,
And her brow a frown had rarely bent;
Indeed she shone all smiles, and seem'd to flatter
Mankind with her black eyes for looking at her.
_Beppo._
I think, with all due deference
To the fair _single_ part of the creation,
That married ladies should preserve the preference
In tête-à-tête or general conversation--
Because they know the world, and are at ease,
And being natural, naturally please.
_Beppo._
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;
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
_Hebrew Melodies._
I saw thee weep--the big bright tear
Came o'er that eye of blue:
And then methought it did appear
A violet dropping dew;
I saw thee smile--the sapphire's blaze
Beside thee ceased to shine,
It could not match the living rays
That fill'd that glance of thine.
As clouds from yonder sun receive
A deep and mellow die,
Which scarce the shade of coming eve
Can banish from the sky,
Those smiles unto the moodiest mind
Their own pure joy impart;
Their sunshine leaves a glow behind
That lightens o'er the heart.
_Hebrew Melodies._
I have observed your sex, once roused to wrath,
Are timidly vindictive to a pitch
Of perseverance, which I would not copy.
_Sardanapalus, A. 2._
She was pensive more than melancholy,
And serious more than pensive, and serene,
It may be, more than either ...
The strangest thing was, beauteous, she was wholly
Unconscious, albeit turn'd of quick seventeen,
That she was fair, or dark, or short, or tall;
She never thought about herself at all.
_Don Juan, Canto 6.
_
A learned lady, famed
For every branch of every science known--
In every Christian language ever named,
With virtues equall'd by her wit alone.
She made the cleverest people quite ashamed,
And even the good with inward envy groan,
Finding themselves so very much exceeded
In their own way by all the things that she did.
_Don Juan, Canto 1._
'Tis pity learned virgins ever wed
With persons of no sort of education,
Or gentlemen who, though well-born and bred,
Grow tired of scientific conversation:
* * * * *
Oh! ye lords of ladies intellectual,
Inform us truly, have they not hen-peck'd you all?
_Don Juan, Canto 1._
What a strange thing is man! and what a stranger
Is woman? what a whirlwind is her head,
And what a whirlpool full of depth and danger
Is all the rest about her! whether wed,
Or widow, maid, or mother, she can change her
Mind like the wind; whatever she has said
Or done, is light to what she'll say or do;--
The oldest thing on record, and yet new!
_Don Juan, Canto 9._
Round her she made an atmosphere of life,
The very air seem'd lighter from her eyes,
They were so soft and beautiful, and rife
With all we can imagine of the skies;--
* * * * *
Her overpowering presence made you feel,
It would not be idolatry to kneel.
_Don Juan, Canto 3._
Through her eye the Immortal shone;
* * * * *
Her eyes' dark charm 'twere vain to tell,
But gaze on that of the gazelle,
It will assist thy fancy well;
As large, as languishingly dark,
But soul beamed forth in every spark
That darted from beneath the lid,
Bright as the jewel of Giamschid,
Yea, soul!
_The Giaour._
So--this feminine farewell
Ends as such partings end, in _no_ departure.
_Sardanapalus, A. 4._