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Ath. I'll give good fortune to your worshippers.
What I promise,
Chor. It seems that we shall yield
Ath. Honours on earth are yours, and troops of friends.
Ath. Whatever tends to glorious victory,
With martial spoils and crowning victory.
Make good issue spring from earth,
Ath. I for my citizens intending good,
Silent destruction steals on him, and ends him.
For the buds no scorching blast, And with twin-births ever go ;
And the people, as is reason,
Praise the gods who bless them so.
Chor. We forbid untimely doom,
Ath. Hearing these friendly blessings I rejoice,
Predominates, and good o'ermasters ill.
Which no mischiefs e'er can sate; And one hatred only know; Let the dust ne'er drink up gore Let them love the common good, Shed by fierce, intestine hate.
Let them hate the common foe.
Chor. Rejoice ye in your wealth profuse,
Ath. Rejoice ye likewise, while ye downward go,
Chor. Ye that in the city dwell,
Ath. 'Tis well, my temple-troop shall be your guido,
Daughters of night! on whom we Mild and benignant go! wait,
Pleased with the fervid glow Depart ye home in solemn state : Of torches giving light, August, and highly honoured, go And as ye pass from sight Under the caves of earth below. Your downward path along, Good people all! while they pass hence, Break into joyful song! Observe the hush of reverence.
Let torches brightly glow, Under earth's deep and ancient rifts, Libations freely flow, Honoured with sacrificial gifts,
At all your several homes. And worship which the people pay,
For Zeus, all-seeing, comes, Benignant virgins ! take your way. And Fate, to bless the throng, Good people ! hushed and silent bo Break into joyful song. During the whole solemnity.
THE BIRTH-DAY, A POEN. BY CAROLINE BOWLES.
Ir is remarked by Mr Dyce, in the committed them to memory, yet feelpreface to his Specimen of British ing they were old friends, and worthy Poetesses (1827), that of the selections of being welcomed the moment we which have been made from the chaos saw their faces. Probably, till we of our past poetry, the majority has come near our own times, there is but been confined almost entirely to the little of what one would call poetry in writings of men ; and from the great these specimens. The British poetcollections of the English poets, where esses seem a 'series of exceedingly so many worthless compositions find a sensible maids and matrons — not place, that the productions of women « with eyes in a fine frenzy rolling" have been carefully excluded. It is nor with hair dishevelled by the true, he admits, that the grander in- tossings of inspiration, but of calm spirations of the Muse have not been countenances and sedate demeanour, often breathed into the softer frame. not very distinguishable from those we The magic tones which have added a love to look on by “parlour twilight" new existence to the heart the tre- in any happy household we are in the mendous thoughts which have impress habit of dropping in upon of an evened a successive stamp on the fluctua- ing a familiar guest. tion of ages, and which have almost Poetry, or not poetry, such verses changed the character of nations are to us often very delightful; and these have not proceeded from woman; there are many moods of mind in which but her sensibility, her tenderness, her good people prefer Pomfret to Pindar. grace, lave not been lost nor misem. Why should we always be desirployed : her genius has gradually risen ing Fancy,Imagination, Passion, Intelwith the opportunities which facilitated lect, Power, in Poetry, as if these were its ascent. To exhibit the growth and essential to it, and none were poets progress of the genius of our country. but those gifted with “ the vision and women in the department of poetry the faculty divine ?" Surely the pure was the object of his most interesting expression of pure thoughts and feelvolume ; and he expresses an honest ings--the staple of common life—ifemsatisfaction in the reflection that his bued with a certain sweetness of soultedious chase through the jungles of felt sound beyond that of ordinary forgotten literature--for by far the speech-coloured, if that image please greater number of female effusions lie you better, with a somewhat greener concealed in obscure publications - light than is usual to our eyes—is poemust procure to his undertaking the try. Surely they who are moved so to good-will of the sex. For though, in commune with their own hearts, or the course of centuries, new antholo with the hearts of them they lovegies will be found, more interesting since forms and hues of sentiment are and more exquisite, because the hu. thus produced that else had not been man mind, and, above all, the female -are poets. There is genius in good. mind, is making a rapid advance, yet ness; and gratitude beautifies the blesshis work will never be deprived of the ings bestowed by Heaven on the pure happy distinction of being one of the of heart. first that has been entirely consecrated There is Katherine Philips—born to women. The specimens begin with 1631, died 1664_known as a poetess Juliana Berners, and end with Letitia by the name of Orinda. She was the Landon.
daughter of John Fowler, a London We are not going to give an ac- merchant, and married James Philips of count of this selection, but having the Priory, Cardigan. “ Her devotion taken it down from Shelf Myra in a to the muses," says Mr Dyce, “ did mistake for Caroline Bowles's “ Birth not prevent her from discharging, in day,"_though 'tis bigger by half the most examplary manner, the duties we have passed a pleasant hour in of domestic life." Doubtless, it assist. turning over the leaves, skipping some, od her in doing so; and therefore, glancing at others, perusing a few, and though she was praised more than sing-songing two or three by heart, once by Dryden, and was renowned by forgetful how, where, or when we had Cowley, a greater glory was hers ; for Jeremy Taylor addressed to her his I have a better fate than kings, discourse on the Nature, Offices, and Because I think it so. Measures of Friendship. Anne Killi. grew, a kindred spirit, immortalized “When all the stormy world doth roar, by Dryden in a memorable strain. How unconcerned am I? says lovingly of her:
I cannot fear to tumble lower
Who never could be high, “ Orinda, Albion's and her sex's grace, Ow'd not her glory to a beauteous face;
“ Secure in these unenvy'd walls It was her radiant soul that shone within, I think not on the state, Which struck a lustre through her outward And pity no man's case that falls skin ;
From his ambition's height. That did her lips and cheeks with roses dye,
“ Silence and innocence are safe ; Advanced her height, and sparkled in her
A heart that's nobly true eye;
At all these little arts can laugh Nor did her sex at all obstruct her fame,
That do the world subdue. But higher 'mong the stars it fixed her name."
" While others revel it in state That she was very beautiful there .
Here I'll contented sit,
As wealth and pomp admit. poems, which had been dispersed among her friends in manuscript, were first
“ Let others (nobler) seek to gain printed without her knowledge or
In knowledge happy fate,
And others busy them in vain consent, and the publication caused
To study ways of state. her a fit of illness. You wish to read some of her verses? As you love us, bc
“ But I resolved from within, Jieve them poetry.
Confirmed from without,
In privacy intend to spin “A COUNTRY LIFE.
My future minutes out. “ How sacred and how innocent
“ And from this hermitage of mine, A country life appears,
I banish all wild toys, How free from tumult, discontent,
And nothing that is not divine From flattery or fears !
Shall dare to tempt my joys. “ This was the first and happiest life,
" There are below but two things good, When man enjoyed himself;
Friendship and Honesty, Till pride exchanged peace for strife,
And only those of all I would And happiness for pelf.
Ask for felicity. “ 'Twas here the poets were inspir'd,
“ In this retir'd and humble seat, Here taught the multitude ;
Free from both war and strife, The brave they here with honour fir'd,
I am not forc'd to make retreat, And civiliz'd the rude.
But choose to spend my life." " That golden age did entertain
She was cut off by the small-poxNo passion but of love :
so was Anne Killigrew (1655), daughThe thoughts of ruling and of gain
ter of Sir Henry Killigrew, Master of Did ne'er their fancies move.
the Savoy, and one of the prebendaries
of Westminster. She was maid of " Then welcome, dearest solitude,
honour to the Duchess of York; and My great felicity ;
her portrait, prefixed to her poetical Though some are pleas'd to call thee rude,
compositions published after her death, Thou art not so, but we.
a mezzotint from a picture by herself,
is at once a proof, says Mr Dyce, of “ Them that do covet only rest,
her beauty and of her skill in painting. A cottage will suffice :
These lines are good,
“THE COMPLAINT OF A LOVER, “ Opinion is the rate of things,
" See'st thou yonder craggy rock, From hence our peace doth flow;
Whose head o'erlooks the swelling main,
Where never shepherd fed his flock, And will for ever veil me from thy sight ; Or careful peasant sow'd his grain ? He wooes me to him with a cheerful grace,
And not one terror clouds his meagre face; "No wholesome herb grows on the same, He promises a lasting rest from pain, Or bird of day will on it rest ;
And shows that all life's fleeting joys are 'Tis barren as the hopeless flame,
vain ; That scorches my tormented breast. Th' eternal scenes of heaven he sets in
view, "Deep underneath a cave does lie, And tells me that no other joys are true.
Th' entrance hid with dismal yew, But love, fond love, would yet resist his Where Phæbus never shew'd his eye,
power, Or cheerful day yet pierced through. Would fain awhile defer the parting hour:
Ile brings thy mourning image to my eyes, " In that dark melancholy cell
And would obstruct my journey to the (Retreat and solace of my woe),
skies. Love, sad despair, and I, do dwell, But say, thou dearest, thou unwearied The springs from whence my grief do friend! flow.
Say, should'st thou grieve to see my sor
rows end? “ Sleep, which to others ease does prove, Thou know'st a painful pilgrimage I've Comes unto me, al is in vain ;
past; For in my dreams I am in love,
And should'st thou grieve that rest is come And in them too she does disdain."
Rather rejoice to see me shake off life, Mary Monk, daughter of Lord And die as I have liv'd, thy faithful wife," Molesworth, and wife of George Monk, Esq. (died 1715), was a delightful be. Have not these “ breathings," sining, and thou wilt read, perhaps not cere and fervent, from breasts most with unmoistened eyes, my Dora—these pure, proved to your heart's content, words of the dedication to the Princess that we were right in what we said of Wales, of her poems, written after above of poetry? These Three were her death by her father. " Most of Christian ladies-in high life, but them are the product of the leisure humble in spirit-all accomplished hours of a young gentlewoman lately in this world's adornments, but intent deceased ; who, in a remote country on Heaven. There is an odour, as of retirement, without omitting the daily violets, while we press the pages to care due to a large family, not only our lips. perfectly acquired the several lan We never had in our hands the guages here made use of (Latin, Ita- poems of Anne, Countess of Winchellian, Spanish, and French), but the sea, printed in 1713; but we well regood morals and principles contained member reading some of them in in those books, so as to put them in beautiful manuscript, many years ago, practice, as well during her life and at Rydal Mount. Wordsworth has languishing sickness, as at the hour immortalized her in the following senof her death; in short, she died not tence :-“ It is remarkable that, exonly like a Christian, but like a Roman cepting a passage or two in the Windlady, and so became at once the ob- sor Forest of Pope, and some delight. ject of the grief and comfort of her ful pictures in the poems of Lady relations.” Of her poetry we have Winchelsea, the poetry of the period here two specimens--one a very noble intervening between the publication translation from Felicaia on Provi- of the Paradise Lost and the Seasons, dence- the other, “ Verses written on does not contain a single new image her death-bed at Bath to her husband of external nature." She was the in London.” They are indeed most daughter of Sir William Kingsmill of affecting.
Sidmonton, in the county of South"Thou who dost all my worldly thoughts
ampton, maid of honour to the Duchess employ,
of York, second wife of James II., Thou pleasing source of all my earthly joy,
and married Heneage, second son Thou tenderest husband and thou dearest
of Heneage, Earl of Winchelsea, friend,
to which title he succeeded on the To thee this first this last adieu I send ! death of his nephew. Mr Dyce has At length the conqueror death asserts his given three of her compositions, all exright,
cellent-the Atheist and the Acorn