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BLUE-STOCKING REVELS; OR,
And Radcliffe, fear-charm'd, ever breathlessly creeping
Through castles and corridors, frightful to sleep in:
Then Barbauld, fine teacher, correcting impatience,
Or mounting the stars in divine meditations;[1]
Thrale, Brunton, Trefusis, her heart pit-a-patting,
And Hemans, behind her grand organ-loft chatting;
With others I can't well remember at present,
Except Hannah Moore, looking very unpleasant.
Through castles and corridors, frightful to sleep in:
Then Barbauld, fine teacher, correcting impatience,
Or mounting the stars in divine meditations;[1]
Thrale, Brunton, Trefusis, her heart pit-a-patting,
And Hemans, behind her grand organ-loft chatting;
With others I can't well remember at present,
Except Hannah Moore, looking very unpleasant.
You'll fancy there could not have possibly been
A sight now, which females would sooner have seen
Than all this; and in truth, when you mark, in a street,
How they turn and inspect ev'ry bonnet they meet,
And how light, in comparison, seem to hold men,
'Tis a point I shall leave to some weightier pen.
Only pray be assur'd, that whatever the case,
It tells not a jot to our sex's disgrace;
And for this simple reason,—that us they are sure of,
But each other's claims are not quite so secure of.
Thus much I can swear,—that what follow'd this show
Was a sight made their cheeks with new gratitude glow,
And that half the dear souls fell in love on the spot,
And with posthumous men too! gallants living not!
Alas! did I say so? Oh impious misgiving!
Than Shakspeare and Petrarch pray who are more living?
Whose words more delight us? whose touches more touch?
For these were the shapes that now pass'd us,—all such
A sight now, which females would sooner have seen
Than all this; and in truth, when you mark, in a street,
How they turn and inspect ev'ry bonnet they meet,
And how light, in comparison, seem to hold men,
'Tis a point I shall leave to some weightier pen.
Only pray be assur'd, that whatever the case,
It tells not a jot to our sex's disgrace;
And for this simple reason,—that us they are sure of,
But each other's claims are not quite so secure of.
Thus much I can swear,—that what follow'd this show
Was a sight made their cheeks with new gratitude glow,
And that half the dear souls fell in love on the spot,
And with posthumous men too! gallants living not!
Alas! did I say so? Oh impious misgiving!
Than Shakspeare and Petrarch pray who are more living?
Whose words more delight us? whose touches more touch?
For these were the shapes that now pass'd us,—all such
- ↑ See, in Aikin's "Miscellanies" her admirable essay upon "Inconsistency in our Expectations;" and in Mr. Dyce's collection, "A Summer Evening's Meditation." containing, among other beauties, the following sublime passage:"This dead of midnight is the noon of thought;
And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars."
