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1728). A Letter from a Lady to Her Husband Abroad 234 To Thee, dear Youth, in sacred Wedlock tied, Disown’d, forsook, a Widow and a Bride; Not suffered to lament, and disallow’d That one sad Privilege of Widowhood; Let me disclose my Love, and speak my Fears, And freely pour my long-forbidden Tears. Anxious I tremble lest in distant Lands, Lest too obedient to your Sire’s Commands, Whilst from your faithful Consort torn, you rove, This ill-meant Absence should efface your Love. Say, have you still preserv’d your constant Heart, From the French Flutt’ring and Italian Art? Does still this Face each foreign Fair out-shine? Does no forbidden Beauty rival mine? Does yet your Breast its wonted Flame retain? And is your Father guilty yet in vain? O! that propitious Heaven would fix my Life In barbarous Climes a Captive, but a Wife, By thee acknowledged, willing I’d remain, Prisoner of Love, in Italy or Spain; Safe in thy Arms enjoy the smiling Days, And oft transported, bless the Happy Place; Happy whate’er its Government might prove, Happy the Slaves in State, if free in Love. But curst I mourn a Slave amidst the Free, Born in the boasted Land of Liberty. For me no Shield the Cobweb Laws appear, I feel by Proof that Tyranny is here. Tho’ Holy Rites that join’d our plighted Hands, Confirm’d our Loves with everlasting Bands, Still would your arbitrary Sire divide Our Hearts, and doom thee to another Bride. What frantick Aims distract his giddy View? 234 [Noel Broxholme (1689?–1748),] A Letter from a Lady to Her Husband Abroad (London: J. Roberts, 149
Which Power Almighty would in vain pursue, Can he the Past recall? Can he the Done undo? Let Factions join th’ oppression to disclose, And all my Friends be fired, and all my Foes; Each Lover speak, to aid a Lover’s Sighs, To save a Wife, let every Woman rise; Nor pent within this narrow Isle alone, Wide as the World my History be known: Where-e’er the British Navy spreads her Sails, Bear it, ye Tides; and whisper it, ye Gales; Ah! who the dangerous Story dares reveal? ’Tis Death to veil, it is but Death to tell. My Father trembling, keeps the Tale unknown, Nor for his Daughter’s Life will risque his own; Lest Villains Power should plotted Treason feign, Or basely load him with a Felon’s Chain: Afresh my Wounds bleed at a Father’s Name, Weeping I blush, and pity whilst I blame. Did he for this the drooping Tyrant save, And raise to Health when sinking to the Grave? Is this the kind Reward, to be pursued To Chains, to Death, by Statesmen’s Gratitude? Or forc’d to deep Despair his Child to give, His Darling Child, a curst Alternative. The Great, too fond of their despotic Will, The grave Distinctions mock of Good and Ill, By vilest Guilt, their Hellish Ends ensure, Nor start at any Crime but being Poor: For conscious Heaven, no Reverence they show, If safe from Legal Witnesses below; If Hope of Place can move, or Fear of Death; If Gold or threat’ning stop the tell-tale Breath. But me no Frown shall frighten to resign The Heart, which spight of Interest shall be mine. To barter Thee for Lucre I disdain, 150
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Editorial Introduction: JOHN WESLEY
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To guide her airy flights along; Go
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Dublin Miscellany 8 (On a Lady Thro
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On Seeing a Friends Picture. By the
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[To Stella] 17 [p.] 230 Stella, whe
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Once from my Window as I cast mine
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I, sacred Wisdom, am more precious
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Thou too canst boast thy Lawns, and
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To distant Objects stretch my lengt
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E’er Motion, Time, or Entity bega
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How solid Waves to glassy Mountains
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The Hive (Vol. 2) 39 [Untitled] 40
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With him more Content I had found T
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[Untitled] 46 [p.] 268 Cosmelia’s
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(The Grove) 52 [p.] 283 In Behalf o
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Horace, B. I, Ode 22. By the Earl o
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Fill’d her with thee a daughter f
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The labouring Clouds do often rest:
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And missing thee, I walk unseen On
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How err unblest along th’ Eternal
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For every Charm a Pang thou shalt r
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And pour her blackest Horrors on th
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Hampton-Gay 69 Fancy, sprightly Nym
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No more the gaudy Tribe we see. Dro
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Cowslip, in pale Gold array’d; Li
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There the Monarch Oak appears, Son
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Yet tho’ I alter, This remains th
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The lofty Pine deigns to descend, A
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Thou never justly recompensed canst
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Why make ’Em both together Lords,
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Thine exemplary zeal destroy. Nor P
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On the Death of ----- 109 Here lies
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On the Coronation 115 With the long
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Graved in your Bosom let his Image
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Never, ah never, to return! Z—ds!
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Cleaveland122 Give me a woman made
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And as from out Thy tortur’d Body
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Part of the 104 th Psalm Paraphrash
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v. 10 He spake! From the tall Mount
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on other Purposes, far differing Wa
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Or Dutch low-built and squat, or sl
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An Instrument I take, which not exc
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Both will not continue long! O be k
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Mr Broome 141 The Rose-bud: To a Yo
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[ D]: If in the murmuring Stream by
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Come, fix thy pleasing Empire in my
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Come Thou chaste Maid, here ever le
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The Lord of Nature fram’d the sho
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Page 105 and 106: Song 174 I Said to my Heart, betwee
Page 107 and 108: Stella’s Birthday 176 1718 Stella
Page 109 and 110: On the Death of Dr. Freind 181 In M
Page 111 and 112: What tho’ no weeping Loves thy As
Page 113 and 114: Soon as thy Letters trembling I unc
Page 115 and 116: Ah think at least thy Flock deserve
Page 117 and 118: Oh come! oh teach me Nature to subd
Page 119 and 120: In Seas of Flame my plunging Soul i
Page 121 and 122: May One kind Grave unite each haple
Page 123 and 124: The Sick and Eeak the Healing Plant
Page 125 and 126: The Lambs with Wolves shall graze t
Page 127 and 128: Dryden’s Miscellany Vol 3 To a Yo
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Page 133 and 134: A F—. 208 Gentlest Blast of ill C
Page 135 and 136: Vol. 6 Alcidor. By a Lady 212 While
Page 137 and 138: January and May: or The Merchant’
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Page 141 and 142: order. Still one by one, in swift s
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Page 147 and 148: Help, dearest Lord, and save at onc
Page 149: Epitaph on M. W. 233 In even Scale,
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Page 157 and 158: Can scarce the distant azure Bounds
Page 159 and 160: This World so Fair, of Joy the brig
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Page 163 and 164: The Leaves that tremble in the Shad
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Page 167 and 168: My Light, my Life, my God, my Savio
Page 169 and 170: Th’ Almighty Judge bends forward
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Page 175 and 176: Enter the Sacred Temple of thy Brea
Page 177 and 178: Life 292 I made a Posie, while the
Page 179 and 180: Providence 297 O sacred Providence,
Page 181 and 182: When yet some Places could no Moist
Page 183 and 184: Mr. Randolph “On His own Picture
Page 185: “The Pulley” 176 “Submission
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