FROM PHILANDER TO EUMENES. Janet Little (later Richmond) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T126549 Little, Janet, 1759-1813. The Poetical Works of Janet Little, the Scotch Milkmaid. Air Printed by John & Peter Wilson 1792 pp. [144]-146.

This e-text is part of the Works section of the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

XML created for the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

Typography, spelling, capitalization, and punctuation have been cautiously modernized. The source of the text is given and all significant editorial interventions have been recorded in textual notes. This text has been edited to conform to the recommendations found in Level 5 of the Best Practices for TEI in Libraries version 4.0.0.

Library of Congress Name Authority File (LCNAF) text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center; text-align: right; text-align: left; display: inline font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;
FROM PHILANDER TO EUMENES . WITH pleasure I your welcome letter read , While Cupid for a little from me fled . With freedom write , dispel your trivial fears ; There's nought presumptuous in your song appears ; Tho' strange th' ideas which you now convey , While you our lovely females thus portray . No doubt , there are , in the promiscuous crowd , The worthless fair , the virtuous and the good ; The haughty nymph , the maid of humble mind ; Th' imperious , yea , the gentle and the kind ; Such as an adamantine heart could charm , And furious tygers of their rage disarm . In all vicissitudes of human life , Man's greatest blessing is a virtuous wife : Her smiles can't fail to sooth his anxious breast , Diffusing joy , while various cares molest : Her prudent counsel swift relief can bring , As Abigail appeased Isr'el's king . Nor need I thus the sacred annals trace , In Britain's Isle they claim the highest place ; When dire oppression , with uplifted hand , His yoke extended o'er our native land , Our sires to abject slavery were doom'd , Our mothers all their ancient claims resum'd : You'll say my speeches do me partial prove , And so ascribe the cruel cause to love . Are you alone exempt from such a guest ? Are you of every antidote possess'd T' effect a cure , or mitigate the pain ? Then may the archer cast his shafts in vain . Of late dear friend I did such valour boast ; But by one fatal glance the field was lost . While you are free of dangers , still beware ; Be warn'd by me , and shun th' alluring snare . It is by some deem'd cowardice to fly , But sure it more ignoble is to die : To die , I'm frantic , sir ; what did I say ? Reason once more resume thy wonted sway ; Kind heaven defend us from such dire alarms ; Who would a victim fall to female charms ? I find I'm better while your lines I read , I'm almost from my Gallic fetters free'd . As you alone were partner of my grief , Pray now congratulate my quick relief . I would not by prolixity offend ; Both bound and free , Philander is your friend .