look at her, and could see in her face when a syllable pleased or displeased her: and when I led her to explain the reason of her remarks, no demonstration could be more true, more accurate, or more appropriate to the subject. But, in general, this gave us very little trouble, for we understood each other when we had scarcely begun to explain our ideas.'

There was such goodness, such pure nature seen
In 's looks, a manner so serene,

Such harmony in motion, speech, and air,
That, without fairness, she was more than fair,
Had more than beauty in each speaking grace
That lent their cloudless glory to her face,
Where mild good sense in placid looks was shown,
And felt,-in every bosom but her own.2

Her very soul is in home, and in the discharge of all those quiet virtues of which home is the centre. Her husband will be to her what her father is now;-the object of all her care, solicitude, and affection. She will see nothing, and connect herself with nothing, but by or through him. If he be a man of sense and virtue, she will sympathize in his sorrows, divert his fatigues, and share his pleasures. If she become the property of a churlish or negligent husband, she will suit his taste also, for she will not long survive his unkindness.3

1 Klopstock (of Meta).
3 Waverley, i. 353.

2 Crabbe, Tales, 148.

And then her hand on mine she laid,
And smooth'd the pillow for my head,
And stole along on tiptoe tread,
And gently oped the door, and spake
In whispers-ne'er was voice so sweet!
Even music follow'd her light feet;
While she was gone,

Methought I felt too much alone.1

She was an amiable, exemplary woman, and possessed that best and only preservative of youth and beauty, a kind, cheerful disposition, and buoyant spirits.

Cette petite-qui est folle comme une jeune chienne; qui chante, qui rit, qui joue de claveçin, qui danse, qui saute, au lieu de marcher, qui ne sait ce qu'elle fait, et fait tout avec grâce; qui ne sait ce qu'elle dit, et dit tout avec esprit, et surtout une naïveté charmante.4

A handsome milkmaid that had not yet attained so much age and wisdom as to load her mind with any fears of things which may never be, as too

many men often do, but she cast away all care, and

sang

like a nightingale."

I will not tell you that this fair creature had the blushes of the morning in her cheeks, the splendour of the sun in her eyes, the freshness of the fields in her looks, the whiteness of the milk she expressed

1 Mazeppa.

2 Lady Catherine Hyde, Duchess of Queensbury, Prior's famous Kitty," Beautiful and young, and wild as colt untamed."

3 Loves of the Poets. 4 Madame du Deffand (Correspondence). 5 Isaac Walton.

in her skin, and the melody of the larks we were admiring in her voice, lest, &c.'

'Tis true your budding Miss is very charming,
But shy and awkward at first coming out,
So much alarm'd, that she is quite alarming,
All giggle, blush ;-half pertness and half pout;
And glancing at Mama for fear there's harm in

What you, she, it, or they may be about.2

Camille ne cherche point à se parer, mais elle est mieux parée que les autres femmes. Elle se prête également au serieux et à l'enjouement. Si vous voulez, elle pensera sensément, si vous voulez, elle badinera comme les Grâces.

Plus on a d'esprit plus on en trouve à Camille. Elle a quelque chose si naïf qu'il semble qu'elle ne parle que le langage du cœur. Tout ce qu'elle dit, tout ce qu'elle fait, a les charmes de la simplicité.3

She was not old, nor young, nor at the years
Which certain people call a "certain age,"
Which yet the most uncertain age appears,
Because I never heard, nor could engage
A person yet by prayers, or bribes, or tears,

To name, define by speech, or write on page,
The period meant precisely by that word,

Which surely is exceedingly absurd.*

Elle avoit de ces beautés qui se conservent, parce qu'elles sont plus dans la physiognomie que dans les traits."

1 Boyle, ii. 395. 4to.

2 Beppo (Byron).

5 Rousseau.

3 Montesquieu, Le Temple de Cnide.

4 Beppo.

Elle fait plus de conquêtes a present qu'elle n'en a faites dans sa première jeunesse; sa coquetterie est sèche, froide, et piquante; c'est un nouveau genre, qui a sa séduction; j'ai moi-même beaucoup de penchant à l'aimer; elle a assez d'esprit et plusieurs qualités excellentes, surtout de la verité, qui est celle dont je fais le plus de cas.'

O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move

The bloom of young desire, and purple light of love.2

On her fair cheek's unfading hue

The young pomegranates blossoms strew
Their bloom in blushes ever new.
Her hair in hyacinthine flow,
When left to roll its folds below,
As 'midst her maidens in the hall,
She stood, superior to them all,
Hath swept the marble where her feet
Gleam'd, whiter than the mountain sleet,
Ere from the cloud that gave it birth
It fell, and caught one stain of earth."

Lovely as the sun's first ray,

When it breaks the clouds of an April day;
Constant and true as the widow'd dove,
Kind as a minstrel that sings of love;
Pure as the fountain in rocky cave,
Where never sunbeam kiss'd the wave;
Humble as maiden that loves in vain;

Holy as hermit's vesper strain;

Gentle as breeze that but whispers and dies,

Yet blithe as the light leaves that dance in its sighs;

1 Lettres (Madame du Deffand, iv. 11.).

2 Gray. 3 Byron.

Courteous as monarch the morn he is crown'd; Generous as spring dews that bless the glad ground.'

The pride, too, of her step, as light

Along the unconscious earth she went,
Seemed that of one, born with a right
To walk some heav'nlier element,
And tread in places where her feet
A star at every step should meet.2

Her heavenly form

Angelic, but more soft, and feminine,
Her graceful innocence, her every air
Of gesture, or least action, overaw'd
His malice, and with rapine sweet bereav'd
His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought:
That space the evil one abstracted stood

From his own evil, and, for the time, remain'd
Stupidly good.3

Sweet Katharine, this lovely woman

Kath. Fair, lovely lady, bright and crystalline, Beauteous and stately as the eye-train'd bird; As glorious as the morning wash'd with dew, Within whose eyes she takes the dawning beams, And golden summer sleeps upon thy cheeks. Wrap up the radiations in some cloud, Lest that thy beauty make this stately town Unhabitable as the burning zone,

With sweet reflections of thy lovely face.1

When you speak, sweet,

I'd have you do it for ever; when you sing,

1 Rogers.

2 Byron.

4 Taming the Shrew, act iii. sc. 6.

3 Paradise Lost.