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F he's capricious she'll be so;
But if his duties constant are, She lets her loving favor glow
As steady as a tropic star. Appears there naught for which to weep,
She'll weep for naught for his dear sake; She clasps her sister in her sleep;
Her love in dreams is most awake. Her soul, that once with pleasure shook
Did any eyes her beauty own, Now wonders how they dare to look
On what belongs to him alone. The indignity of taking gifts
Exhilarates her loving breast; A rapture of submission lifts
Her life into celestial rest.
There's nothing left of what she was,
Back to the habe the woman dies; And all the wisdom that she has
Is to love him for being wise. She's confident because she fears;
And, though discreet when he's away, If none but her dear despot hears,
She'll prattle like a child at play. Perchance, when all her praise is said,
He tells the news-a battle wonOn either side ten thousand dead,
Describing how the whole was done: She thinks, “He's looking on my face!
I am his joy; whate'er I do.
In that, he'd always have me so!”
Advice to Young Men. ΤΑ: ASTE not of fish that have black tails ; that is, converse not with men that are smutted
with vicious qualities. Stride not over the beam of the scales; wherein is taught us the regard we ought to have for justice, so as not to go beyond its measures. Sit not on a chæ. nix; wherein sloth is forbidden, and we are required to take care to provide ourselves with the necessaries of life. Do not strike hands with every man; this means we ought not to be over-hasty to make acquaintance or friendship with others. Wear not a tight ring; that is, we are to labor after a free and independent way of living, and to submit to no fetters. not thy heart; which forbids to afflict our souls, and waste them with vexatious cares. Abstain from beans; that is, keep out of public offices, for anciently the choice of the officers of state was made by beans.—Plutarch.
The Amusements of Youth.
those who are the enemies of innocent amusement had the direction of the world, they would take away the spring and youth,—the former from the year, the latter from human life. -Balzac,
your betters; in books and life that is the most wholesome society; learn to admire rightly—the great pleasure of life is that. Note what the great specially admire; they admire great things: narrow spirits admire basely, and worship meanly.
The Duties and Foys of Woman.
The lofty uses and the noble ends,
And first in sin.
And also the bearer of the seed Whereby sin dieth. Raise the majesties Of thy disconsolate brows, O well-beloved, And front with level eyelids the To Come, And all the dark o' the world. Rise, woman, rise To thy peculiar and best altitudes Of doing good and of enduring ill, – Of comforting for ill, and teaching good, And reconciling all that ill and good Unto the patience of a constant hope, — Rise with thy daughters! If sin came by thee, And by sin, death, -the ransom-righteousness,
The heavenly light and compensative rest,
Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense
And in the place of Eden's lost delight
-Elizabeth B. Browning.
The Woman of To-day.
LITH Hebrew, Greek and Latin
She's acquainted more or less; And she's obviously pat in
All the modern languages,
Her Kant, and Schopenhauer,
Of unquestionable power. She is full of keen suggestion,
Be the subject what it may, And on every social question
She has something apt to say. You may see her quick eye kindle
With a bright and vivid flame At the mention of a Tyndal
Or a Huxley's potent name. Scraps of learning she will dish up
With a skill that makes them live, She will argue with a Bishop,
Say on Church Prerogative.
With her own sex she will chance
In the proper time and place,
With quaint and lively grace.
To perform his task with ease;
Over infantile disease
(Though perhaps she'd rather noti, Play tennis, ride, and angle,
And is quite a champion shot. From the public platform you will
Find her talking fact or myth, With the vigor of a Whewell,
Or the wit of Sydney Smith. 'Mongst mere minnows she's a Triton
Who will always have her way; She's an Admirable Crichton, 'Is the woman of to day.
-St. James Gazette.
The Changefulness of Woman.
E watchful sprites, who make e'en man your care,
And sure more gladly hover o'er the fair, Who 'grave on adamant all changeless things, The smiles of courtiers and the frowns of kings! Say to what softer texture ye impart The quick resolves of woman's trusting heart; Joys of a moment, wishes of an hour, The short eternity of Passion's power, Breathed in vain oaths that pledge with generous zeal E'en more of fondness than they e'er shall feel, Light fieeting vows that never reach above, And all the guileless changefulness of love!
Is summer's leaf the record ? Does it last
The Minstrel Girl.
GAIN ’twas evening-Agnes knelt,
Pale, passionless-a sainted one: On wasted cheek and pale brow dwelt
The last beams of the setting sun. Alone—the damp and cloistered wall
Was round her like a sepulcher;
Was bending every worshiper.
Her thin hand veiled her tearful eye, As it were sin to gaze upon
The changes of the changeful sky. It seemed as if a sudden thought
Of her enthusiast moments came With the bland eve-and she had sought
To stifle in her heart the flame Of its awakened memory:
She felt she might not cherish, then, The raptures of a spirit, free
And passionate as hers had been, When its sole worship was, to look
With a delighted eye abroad; And read, as from an open book,
The written languages of God. How changed she kneels!-the vile, gray hood,
Where spring flowers twined with raven hair, And where the jeweled silk hath flowed,
Coarse veil and gloomy scapulaire And wherefore thus ? Was hers a soul,
Which, all unfit for nature's gladness, Could grasp the bigot's poisoned bowl,
And drain with joy its draughts of madness? Read ye the secret, who have nursed
In your own hearts intenser feelings. Which stole upon ye, at the first,
Like bland and musical revealings From some untrodden paradise,
Until her very soul was theirs; And from their maddening ecstacies
Ye woke to mournfulness and prayers. To weave a garland, will not let it witherWondering, I listen to the strain sublime, That flows, all freshly, down the stream of time, Wafted in grand simplicity along, The undying breath, the very soul of song.
- John Greenleaf Whittier,
The Female Convict.
HE shrank from all, and her silent mood
Made her wish only for solitude. Her eye sought the ground as it could not brook For innermost shame, on another's to look, And the cheerings of comfort fell on her ear Like deadliest words, that were curses to hear:She still was young, and she had been fair; But weather stains, hunger, toil and care, That frost and fever that wear the heart, Had made the colors of youth depart From the sallow cheek, save over it came T'ne burning Rush of the spirit's shame.
She could not weep, and she could not pray,
They were sailing over the salt sea foam,