THE
FEMINEAD
:
OR
FEMALE
GENIUS
.
WRITTEN
IN
THE
YEAR
MDCCLI
.
BY
JOHN
DUNCOMBE
,
M.
A.
SHall
lordly
man
,
the
theme
of
every
lay
,
Usurp
the
Muse's
tributary
bay
?
In
kingly
state
on
Pindus'
summit
sit
,
Tyrant
of
verse
,
and
arbiter
of
wit
?
By
Salic
law
the
female
right
deny
,
And
view
their
genius
with
regardless
eye
?
Justice
forbid
!
and
every
muse
inspire
To
sing
the
glories
of
a
sister-choir
!
Rise
,
rise
,
bold
swain
;
and
to
the
listening
grove
Resound
the
praises
of
the
sex
you
love
;
Tell
how
,
adorn'd
with
every
charm
,
they
shine
,
In
mind
and
person
equally
divine
,
Till
man
,
no
more
to
female
merit
blind
,
Admire
the
person
,
but
adore
the
mind
.
To
these
weak
strains
,
O
thou
!
the
sex's
friend
And
constant
patron
,
The
author
of
those
three
celebrated
works
,
Pamela
,
Clarissa
,
and
Sir
Charles
Grandison
.
Richardson
!
attend
:
Thou
,
who
so
oft
with
pleas'd
,
but
anxious
care
,
Hast
watch'd
the
dawning
genius
of
the
fair
,
With
wonted
smiles
wilt
hear
thy
friend
display
The
various
graces
of
the
female
lay
;
Studious
from
Folly's
yoke
their
minds
to
free
,
And
aid
the
generous
cause
espous'd
by
thee
.
Long
o'er
the
world
did
Prejudice
maintain
,
By
sounds
like
these
,
her
undisputed
reign
:
"
Woman
!
she
cried
,
to
thee
,
indulgent
Heaven
"
Has
all
the
charms
of
outward
beauty
given
:
"
Be
thine
the
boast
,
unrival'd
,
to
enslave
"
The
great
,
the
wise
,
the
witty
,
and
the
brave
;
"
Deck'd
with
the
Paphian
rose's
damask
glow
,
"
And
the
vale-lily's
vegetable
snow
,
"
Be
thine
,
to
move
majestic
in
the
dance
,
"
To
roll
the
eye
,
and
aim
the
tender
glance
,
"
Or
touch
the
strings
,
and
breathe
the
melting
song
,
"
Content
to
emulate
that
airy
throng
,
"
Who
to
the
sun
their
painted
plumes
display
,
"
And
gaily
glitter
on
the
hawthorn
spray
,
"
Or
wildly
warble
in
the
beechen
grove
,
"
Careless
of
aught
but
music
,
joy
,
and
love
.
"
Heavens
!
could
such
artful
,
slavish
sounds
beguile
The
free-born
sons
of
Britain's
polish'd
isle
?
Could
they
,
like
fam'd
Ulysses'
dastard
crew
,
Attentive
listen
,
and
enamour'd
view
,
Nor
drive
the
Syren
to
that
dreary
plain
,
In
loathsome
pomp
,
where
eastern
tyrants
reign
;
Where
each
fair
neck
the
yoke
of
slavery
galls
,
Clos'd
in
a
proud
seraglio's
gloomy
walls
,
And
taught
,
that
levell'd
with
the
brutal
kind
,
Nor
sense
,
nor
souls
to
women
are
assign'd
.
Our
British
nymphs
with
happier
omens
rove
,
At
freedom's
call
,
thro'
wisdom's
sacred
grove
,
And
,
as
with
lavish
hand
each
sister
grace
Shapes
the
fair
form
,
and
regulates
the
face
,
Each
sister
muse
,
in
blissful
union
join'd
,
Adorns
,
improves
,
and
beautifies
the
mind
.
Ev'n
now
fond
Fancy
in
our
polish'd
land
Assembled
shews
a
blooming
,
studious
band
:
With
various
arts
our
reverence
they
engage
,
Some
turn
the
tuneful
,
some
the
moral
page
;
These
,
led
by
Contemplation
,
soar
on
high
,
And
range
the
Heavens
with
philosophic
eye
;
While
those
,
surrounded
by
a
vocal
choir
,
The
canvas
tinge
,
or
touch
the
warbling
lyre
.
Here
,
like
the
stars
'mix'd
radiance
,
they
unite
To
dazzle
and
perplex
our
wandering
sight
:
The
muse
each
charmer
singly
shall
survey
,
And
tune
to
each
her
tributary
lay
.
So
when
,
in
blended
tints
,
with
sweet
surprize
Assembled
beauties
strike
our
ravish'd
eyes
,
Such
as
in
Lely's
melting
colours
shine
,
Or
spring
,
great
Kneller
!
from
a
hand
like
thine
,
On
all
with
pleasing
awe
at
once
we
gaze
,
And
,
lost
in
wonder
,
know
not
which
to
praise
,
But
,
singly
view'd
,
each
nymph
delights
us
more
,
Disclosing
graces
unperceiv'd
before
.
First
let
the
muse
with
generous
ardor
try
To
chase
the
mist
from
dark
opinion's
eye
:
Nor
mean
we
here
to
blame
that
father's
care
,
Who
guards
from
learned
wives
his
booby
heir
,
Since
oft
that
heir
with
prudence
has
been
known
To
dread
a
genius
that
transcends
his
own
:
The
wise
themselves
should
with
discretion
chuse
,
Since
letter'd
nymphs
their
knowledge
may
abuse
,
And
husbands
oft
experience
to
their
cost
The
prudent
housewife
in
the
scholar
lost
:
But
those
incur
deserv'd
contempt
,
who
prize
Their
own
high
talents
,
and
their
sex
despise
,
With
haughty
mien
each
social
bliss
defeat
,
And
sully
all
their
learning
with
conceit
:
Of
such
the
parent
justly
warns
his
son
,
And
such
the
muse
herself
will
bid
him
shun
.
But
lives
there
one
,
whose
unassuming
mind
,
Tho'
grac'd
by
nature
,
and
by
art
refin'd
,
Pleas'd
with
domestic
excellence
,
can
spare
Some
hours
from
studious
ease
to
social
care
,
And
with
her
pen
that
time
alone
employs
Which
others
waste
in
visits
,
cards
,
and
noise
;
From
affectation
free
,
tho'
deeply
read
,
"
With
wit
well
natur'd
,
and
with
books
well
bred
?
"
With
such
(
and
such
there
are
)
each
happy
day
Must
fly
improving
,
and
improv'd
away
;
Inconstancy
might
fix
and
settle
there
,
And
wisdom's
voice
approve
the
chosen
fair
.
Nor
need
we
now
from
our
own
Britain
rove
,
In
search
of
Genius
,
to
the
Lesbian
grove
,
Tho'
Sappho
there
her
tuneful
lyre
has
strung
,
And
amorous
griefs
in
sweetest
accents
sung
,
Since
here
,
in
Charles's
days
,
amidst
a
train
Of
shameless
bards
,
licentious
and
profane
,
The
chaste
Mrs.
Catherine
Philips
:
she
was
distinguished
by
most
of
the
wits
of
king
Charles's
reign
,
and
died
young
.
Her
pieces
on
friendship
are
particularly
admired
.
Orinda
rose
;
with
purer
light
,
Like
modest
Cynthia
,
beaming
thro'
the
night
:
Fair
Friendship's
lustre
,
undisguis'd
by
art
,
Glows
in
her
lines
,
and
animates
her
heart
;
Friendship
,
that
jewel
,
which
,
tho'
all
confess
Its
peerless
value
,
yet
how
few
possess
!
For
her
the
never-dying
myrtle
weaves
A
verdant
chaplet
of
her
odorous
leaves
;
If
Cowley's
or
Roscommon's
song
can
give
Immortal
fame
,
her
praise
shall
ever
live
.
Who
can
unmov'd
near
Anne
countess
of
Winchelsea
,
a
lady
of
great
wit
and
genius
,
wrote
(
among
others
)
a
poem
,
much
admired
,
on
the
Spleen
,
and
is
praised
by
Mr.
Pope
,
&c.
under
the
poetical
name
of
Ardelia
.
Winchelsea
reveal
Thy
horrors
,
Spleen
!
which
all
,
who
paint
,
must
feel
?
My
praises
would
but
wrong
her
sterling
wit
,
Since
Pope
himself
applauds
what
she
has
writ
.
But
say
,
what
matron
now
walks
musing
forth
From
the
bleak
mountains
of
her
native
North
?
While
round
her
brows
two
sisters
of
the
Nine
Poetic
wreaths
with
philosophic
twine
!
Hail
,
Mrs.
Catherine
Cockburne
was
the
wife
of
a
clergyman
,
lived
ob
scurely
,
and
died
a
few
years
ago
in
an
advanced
age
in
Northumber
land
;
her
works
on
dramatic
,
philosophical
,
and
sacred
subjects
have
been
lately
collected
by
the
learned
Dr.
Birch
,
and
are
generally
ad
mired
.
Cockburne
,
hail
!
ev'n
now
from
Reason's
bowers
Thy
Locke
delighted
culls
the
choicest
flowers
To
deck
his
great
,
successful
champion's
head
,
And
Clarke
expects
thee
in
the
laurel
shade
.
Tho'
long
to
dark
,
oblivious
want
a
prey
,
Thy
aged
worth
pass'd
unperceiv'd
away
,
Yet
Scotland
now
shall
ever
boast
thy
fame
,
While
England
mourns
thy
undistinguish'd
name
,
And
views
with
wonder
,
in
a
female
mind
,
Philosopher
,
divine
,
and
poet
join'd
!
The
modest
muse
a
veil
with
pity
throws
O'er
vice's
friends
,
and
virtue's
female
foes
;
Abash'd
she
views
the
bold
unblushing
mien
Of
modern
The
first
of
these
wrote
the
scandalous
memoirs
called
Atalantis
,
and
the
other
two
are
notorious
for
the
indecency
of
their
plays
.
Manley
,
Centlivre
,
and
Behn
;
And
grieves
to
see
one
nobly
born
disgrace
Her
modest
sex
,
and
her
illustrious
race
.
Tho'
harmony
thro'
all
their
numbers
flow'd
,
And
genuine
wit
its
every
grace
bestow'd
,
Nor
genuine
wit
,
nor
harmony
,
excuse
The
dangerous
sallies
of
a
wanton
muse
:
Nor
can
such
tuneful
,
but
immoral
,
lays
Expect
the
tribute
of
impartial
praise
:
As
soon
might
These
three
ladies
have
endeavoured
to
immortalize
their
shame
by
writing
their
own
memoirs
.
Philips
,
Pilkington
,
and
V—
Deserv'd
applause
for
spotless
virtue
gain
.
But
hark
!
what
The
character
of
Mrs.
Rowe
and
her
writings
is
too
well
known
to
be
dwelt
on
here
.
It
may
be
sufficient
to
say
,
that
without
any
pre
vious
illness
she
met
at
last
with
that
sudden
death
for
which
she
had
always
wished
.
nymph
,
in
Frome's
embroider'd
vale
,
With
strains
seraphic
swells
the
vernal
gale
?
With
what
sweet
sounds
the
bordering
forest
rings
?
For
sportive
Echo
catches
,
as
she
sings
,
Each
falling
accent
,
studious
to
prolong
The
warbled
notes
of
Rowe's
ecstatic
song
.
Old
Avon
pleas'd
his
reedy
forehead
rears
,
And
polish'd
Orrery
delighted
hears
.
See
with
what
transport
she
resigns
her
breath
,
Snatch'd
by
a
sudden
,
but
a
wish'd-for
death
!
Releas'd
from
earth
,
with
smiles
she
soars
on
high
Amidst
her
kindred
spirits
of
the
sky
,
Where
faith
and
love
those
endless
joys
bestow
,
That
warm'd
her
lays
,
and
fill'd
her
hopes
below
.
Nor
can
her
noble
Frances
,
Countess
of
Hertford
,
and
afterwards
dutchess
dowager
of
Somerset
,
Mrs.
Rowe's
illustrious
friend
,
lamented
her
death
in
some
verses
prefixed
to
her
poems
,
and
was
author
of
the
letters
in
her
col
lection
signed
Cleora
.
friend
escape
unseen
,
Or
from
the
muse
her
modest
virtues
screen
;
Here
,
sweetly
blended
,
to
our
wondering
eyes
,
The
peeress
,
poetess
,
and
Christian
rise
:
And
tho'
the
Nine
her
tuneful
strains
inspire
,
We
less
her
genius
,
than
her
heart
,
admire
,
Pleas'd
,
'midst
the
great
,
one
truly
good
to
see
,
And
proud
to
tell
that
Somerset
is
she
.
By
generous
views
one
Anne
,
viscountess
Irwin
,
and
aunt
to
the
present
earl
of
Carlisle
:
this
lady
,
in
a
poetical
epistle
to
Mr.
Pope
,
has
rescued
her
sex's
cause
from
the
aspersions
cast
on
them
by
that
satyrist
in
his
essay
on
the
cha
racters
of
women
.
pceress
more
demands
A
grateful
tribute
from
all
female
hands
;
One
,
who
to
shield
them
from
the
worst
of
foes
,
In
their
just
cause
dar'd
Pope
himself
oppose
.
Their
own
dark
forms
deceit
and
envy
wear
,
By
Irwin
touch'd
with
See
Milton
,
book
iv
.
ver.
811.
truth's
celestial
spear
.
By
her
disarm'd
,
ye
witlings
!
now
give
o'er
Your
empty
sneers
,
and
shock
the
sex
no
more
.
Thus
bold
Camilla
,
when
the
Trojan
chief
Attack'd
her
country
,
flew
to
its
relief
;
Beneath
her
lance
the
bravest
warriors
bled
,
And
fear
dismay'd
the
host
which
great
Aeneas
led
.
But
ah
!
why
heaves
my
breast
this
pensive
sigh
?
Why
starts
this
tear
unbidden
from
my
eye
?
What
breast
from
sighs
,
what
eye
from
tears
refrains
,
When
,
sweetly-mournful
,
hapless
Mrs.
Wright
,
sister
to
the
famous
Wesleys
,
has
published
some
pieces
,
which
,
tho'
of
a
melancholy
cast
,
are
written
in
the
genuine
spirit
of
poetry
.
Wright
complains
?
And
who
but
grieves
to
see
her
generous
mind
,
For
nobler
views
and
worthier
guests
design'd
,
Admit
the
hateful
form
of
black
despair
,
Wan
with
the
gloom
of
superstitious
care
?
In
pity-moving
lays
,
with
earnest
cries
,
She
call'd
on
Heaven
to
close
her
weary
eyes
,
And
,
long
on
earth
by
heart-felt
woes
opprest
,
Was
borne
by
friendly
death
to
welcome
rest
.
In
nervous
strains
,
lo
!
Mrs.
Madan
is
author
of
a
poem
called
the
Progress
of
Poetry
,
wherein
the
characters
of
the
best
Grecian
,
Roman
,
and
English
poets
are
justly
and
elegantly
drawn
.
Madan's
polish'd
taste
Has
poetry's
successive
progress
trac'd
,
From
antient
Greece
,
where
first
she
fix'd
her
reign
,
To
Italy
,
and
Britain's
happier
plain
.
Praise
well-bestow'd
adorns
her
glowing
lines
,
And
manly
strength
with
female
softness
joins
.
So
female
charms
and
manly
virtues
grace
,
By
her
example
form'd
,
her
blooming
race
,
And
,
fram'd
alike
to
please
our
ears
and
eyes
,
There
new
Cornelias
and
new
Gracchi
rise
.
O
that
you
now
,
with
genius
at
command
,
Would
snatch
the
penc
l
from
my
artless
hand
,
And
give
your
sex's
portraits
,
bold
and
true
,
In
colours
worthy
of
themselves
and
you
!
Now
in
ecstatic
visions
let
me
rove
,
By
Cynthia's
beams
,
thro'
Brackley's
glimmering
grove
,
Where
still
each
night
,
by
startled
shepherds
seen
,
Young
Mrs.
Leapor
,
daughter
to
a
Northamptonshire
gardener
,
has
lately
convinced
the
world
of
the
force
of
unassisted
nature
,
by
imitating
and
equalling
some
of
our
most
approved
poets
,
by
the
strength
of
her
parts
,
and
the
vivacity
of
her
genius
.
Leapor's
form
flies
shadowy
o'er
the
green
.
Those
envied
honours
nature
lov'd
to
pay
The
briar-bound
turf
,
where
erst
her
Shakespear
lay
,
Now
on
her
darling
Mira
she
bestows
;
There
o'er
the
hallow'd
ground
she
fondly
strows
The
choicest
fragrance
of
the
breathing
spring
,
And
bids
each
year
her
favourite
linnet
sing
.
Let
cloister'd
pedants
,
in
an
endless
round
,
Tread
the
dull
mazes
of
scholastic
ground
;
Brackley
unenvying
views
the
glittering
train
Of
learning's
useless
trappings
idly
vain
;
For
,
spite
of
all
that
vaunted
learning's
aid
,
Their
fame
is
rivall'd
by
her
rural
maid
.
So
,
while
in
our
Britannia's
beechen
sprays
Sweet
Philomela
trills
her
mellow
lays
,
We
to
the
natives
of
the
sultry
line
Their
boasted
race
of
parrots
pleas'd
resign
:
For
tho'
on
citron
boughs
they
proudly
glow
With
all
the
colours
of
the
watery
bow
,
Yet
thro'
the
grove
harsh
discord
they
prolong
,
Tho'
rich
in
gaudy
plumage
,
poor
in
song
.
Now
bear
me
,
Clio
,
to
that
Kentish
strand
,
Whose
rude
o'erhanging
cliffs
and
barren
sand
May
challenge
all
the
myrtle-blooming
bowers
Of
fam'd
Italia
,
when
,
at
evening
hours
,
Thy
own
Mrs.
Eliza
Carter
of
Deal
,
well
known
to
the
learned
world
for
her
late
translation
of
Epictetus
,
has
translated
,
from
the
Italian
,
Alga
rotti's
dialogues
on
light
and
colours
;
and
lately
published
a
small
col
lection
of
elegant
poems
.
Eliza
muses
on
the
shore
,
Serene
,
tho'
billows
beat
,
and
tempests
roar
.
Hail
,
Carter
,
hail
!
your
favourite
name
inspires
My
raptur'd
breast
with
sympathetic
fires
;
Ev'n
now
I
see
your
lov'd
Ilyssus
lead
His
mazy
current
thro'
th'
Athenian
mead
;
With
you
I
pierce
thro'
academic
shades
,
And
join
in
Attic
bowers
th'
Aonian
maids
;
Beneath
the
spreading
plane
with
Plato
rove
,
And
hear
his
morals
echo
thro'
the
grove
.
Joy
sparkles
in
the
sage's
looks
,
to
find
His
genius
glowing
in
a
female
mind
;
Newton
admiring
sees
your
searching
eye
Dart
thro'
his
mystic
page
,
and
range
the
sky
;
By
you
his
colours
to
your
sex
are
shown
,
And
Algarotti's
name
to
Britain
known
.
While
,
undisturb'd
by
pride
,
you
calmly
tread
Thro'
life's
perplexing
paths
,
by
wisdom
led
;
And
,
taught
by
her
,
your
grateful
muse
repays
Her
heavenly
teacher
in
nocturnal
lays
.
So
when
Prometheus
from
th'
Almighty
Sire
,
As
sings
the
fable
,
stole
celestial
fire
,
Swift
thro'
the
clay
the
vital
current
ran
,
In
look
,
in
form
,
in
speech
resembling
man
;
But
in
each
eye
a
living
lustre
glow'd
,
That
spoke
the
heavenly
source
from
whence
it
flow'd
.
"
What
magic
powers
in
We
could
not
here
,
with
justice
,
with-hold
our
tribute
of
praise
from
Mrs.
Brooke
,
author
of
the
tragedy
of
Virginia
.
Celia's
numbers
dwell
,
"
Which
thus
th'
unpractis'd
breast
with
ardor
swell
"
To
emulate
her
praise
,
and
tune
that
lyre
"
Which
yet
no
bard
was
able
to
inspire
!
"
With
tears
her
suffering
Virgin
we
attend
,
"
And
sympathize
with
father
,
lover
,
friend
!
"
What
sacred
rapture
in
our
bosom
glows
,
"
When
at
the
shrine
she
offers
up
her
vows
!
"
Mild
majesty
and
virtue's
awful
power
"
Adorn
her
fall
,
and
grace
her
latest
hour
.
"
Transport
me
now
to
those
embroider'd
meads
,
Where
the
slow
Ouze
his
lazy
current
leads
;
There
,
while
the
stream
soft-dimpling
steals
along
,
And
from
the
groves
the
green-hair'd
Dryads
throng
,
Clio
herself
,
or
This
lady
has
written
two
beautiful
odes
to
Cynthia
and
the
Spring
.
Ferrar
tunes
a
lay
,
Sweet
as
the
darkling
Philomel
of
May
.
Haste
,
haste
,
ye
Nine
,
and
hear
a
sister
sing
The
charms
of
Cynthia
,
and
the
joys
of
spring
:
See
!
night's
pale
goddess
with
a
grateful
beam
Paints
her
lov'd
image
in
the
shadowy
stream
,
While
,
round
his
votary
,
spring
profusely
showers
"
A
snow
of
blossoms
,
and
a
wild
of
flowers
.
"
O
happy
nymph
,
tho'
winter
o'er
thy
head
,
Blind
to
that
form
,
the
snow
of
age
shall
shed
;
Tho'
life's
short
spring
and
beauty's
blossoms
fade
,
Still
shall
thy
reason
flourish
undecay'd
;
Time
,
tho'
he
steals
the
roseate
bloom
of
youth
,
Shall
spare
the
charms
of
virtue
and
of
truth
,
And
on
thy
mind
new
charms
,
new
bloom
bestow
,
Wisdom's
best
friend
,
and
only
beauty's
foe
.
Nor
shall
thy
much-lov'd
Mrs.
Pennington
has
happily
imitated
Mr.
Philips's
Splendid
Shil
ling
,
in
a
burlesque
poem
called
The
Copper
Farthing
.
Pennington
remain
Unsung
,
unhonour'd
in
my
votive
strain
.
See
where
the
soft
enchantress
,
wandering
o'er
The
fairy
ground
that
Philips
trod
before
,
Exalts
her
chymic
wand
,
and
swift
behold
The
basest
metals
ripen
into
gold
:
Beneath
her
magic
touch
,
with
wondering
eye
,
We
view
vile
copper
with
pure
sterling
vie
;
Nor
shall
the
farthing
,
sung
by
her
,
forbear
To
claim
the
praises
of
the
smiling
fair
;
Till
chuck
and
marble
shall
no
more
employ
The
thoughtless
leisure
of
the
truant
boy
.
Returning
now
to
Thames's
flowery
side
,
See
how
his
waves
in
still
attention
glide
!
And
,
hark
!
what
songstress
shakes
her
warbling
throat
?
Is
it
the
nightingale
,
or
This
lady
has
written
odes
to
Peace
,
Health
,
and
the
Robin
Red
breast
,
which
are
here
alluded
to
;
and
she
has
been
celebrated
in
a
sonnet
by
Mr.
Edwards
,
author
of
the
Canons
of
Criticism
.
Delia's
note
?
The
balmy
zephyrs
,
hovering
o'er
the
fair
,
On
their
soft
wings
the
vocal
accents
bear
;
Thro'
Sunbury's
low
vale
the
strains
rebound
,
Ev'n
neighbouring
Chertsey
hears
the
chearful
sound
,
And
wondering
sees
her
Cowley's
laurel'd
shade
Transported
listen
to
the
tuneful
maid
.
O
may
those
nymphs
,
whose
pleasing
power
she
sings
,
Still
o'er
their
suppliant
wave
their
fostering
wings
!
O
long
may
Health
and
soft-ey'd
Peace
impart
Bloom
to
her
cheek
,
and
rapture
to
her
heart
!
Beneath
her
roof
the
red-breast
shall
prolong
,
Unchill'd
by
frosts
,
his
tributary
song
;
For
her
the
lark
shall
wake
the
dappled
morn
,
And
linnet
twitter
from
the
blossom'd
thorn
.
Sing
on
,
sweet
maid
!
thy
Spenser
smiles
to
see
Kind
Fancy
shed
her
choicest
gifts
on
thee
,
And
bids
his
Edwards
,
on
the
laurel
spray
That
shades
his
tomb
,
inscribe
thy
rural
lay
.
With
lovely
mien
This
lady
has
successfully
applied
herself
to
the
sister
arts
of
draw
ing
and
poetry
,
and
has
written
an
ingenious
allegory
,
wherein
two
pilgrims
,
Fidelio
and
Honoria
,
after
a
fruitless
search
for
the
palace
of
Happiness
,
are
at
last
conducted
to
the
house
of
Content
.
Eugenia
now
appears
,
The
muse's
pupil
from
her
tenderest
years
;
Improving
tasks
her
peaceful
hours
beguile
,
The
sister
arts
on
all
her
labours
smile
,
And
while
the
Nine
their
votary
inspire
,
"
One
dips
the
pencil
,
and
one
strings
the
lyre
.
"
O
may
her
life's
clear
current
smoothly
glide
,
Unruffled
by
misfortune's
boisterous
tide
!
So
while
the
charmer
leads
her
blameless
days
With
that
content
which
she
so
well
displays
,
Her
own
Honoria
we
in
her
shall
view
,
And
think
her
allegoric
vision
true
.
Thus
wandering
wild
among
the
golden
grain
That
fruitful
floats
on
Bansted's
airy
plain
,
Careless
I
sung
,
while
summer's
western
gale
Breath'd
health
and
fragrance
thro'
the
dusky
vale
;
When
from
a
neighbouring
hawthorn
,
in
whose
shade
Conceal'd
she
lay
,
up-rose
th'
Aonian
maid
:
Pleas'd
had
she
listen'd
;
and
,
with
smiles
,
she
cried
,
"
Cease
,
friendly
swain
!
be
this
thy
praise
and
pride
,
"
That
thou
,
of
all
the
numerous
tuneful
throng
,
"
First
in
our
cause
hast
fram'd
thy
generous
song
.
"
And
ye
,
our
sister
choir
!
proceed
to
tread
"
The
flowery
paths
of
fame
,
by
science
led
!
"
Employ
by
turns
the
needle
and
the
pen
,
"
And
in
their
favourite
studies
rival
men
!
"
May
all
our
sex
your
glorious
track
pursue
,
"
And
keep
your
bright
example
still
in
view
!
"
These
lasting
beauties
will
in
youth
engage
,
"
And
smooth
the
wrinkles
of
deelining
age
,
"
Secure
to
bloom
,
unconscious
of
decay
,
"
When
all
Corinna's
roses
fade
away
.
"
For
ev'n
when
love's
short
triumph
shall
be
o'er
,
"
When
youth
shall
please
,
and
beauty
charm
no
more
,
"
When
man
shall
cease
to
slatter
;
when
the
eye
"
Shall
cease
to
sparkle
,
and
the
heart
to
sigh
,
"
In
that
dread
hour
,
when
parent
dust
shall
claim
"
The
lifeless
tribute
of
each
kindred
frame
,
"
Ev'n
then
shall
wisdom
for
her
chosen
fair
"
The
fragrant
wreaths
of
virtuous
fame
prepare
;
"
Those
wreaths
which
flourish
in
a
happier
clime
.
"
Beyond
the
reach
of
envy
and
of
time
;
"
While
here
,
th'
immortalizing
muse
shall
save
"
Your
darling
names
from
dark
Oblivion's
grave
;
"
Those
names
the
praise
and
wonder
shall
engage
"
Of
every
polish'd
,
wise
,
and
virtuous
age
;
"
To
latest
times
our
annals
shall
adorn
,
"
And
save
from
folly
thousands
yet
unborn
.
"