Letter XII

From Letter XII:

[57] If we would be faithful to ourselves, we might soon discover the particulars in which we are most liable to err; and he who begins [58] sincerely to watch over, and to correct his temper, will soon reap the reward. Should the following lines aid you in this important undertaking, they will fully answer my purpose.

Say, dost thou seek some charm for life,

As daughter, sister, mother, wife,

Which round thy home’s blest hearth may give

The good for which we love to live?

It is not with delusive ray,

Flashing an evanescent day;

It is not Beauty’s dazzling glow,

Her cheek of rose, her breast of snow,

Nor yet her sparkling, speaking eye,

The heart’s best pleasures can supply:

These, these, alas! are quickly o’er;

And when the charmer charms no more,

Vexation, Grief, and Misery’s train

Begin their long, their gloomy reign.

Nor round the happy hearth of home

Do the calm comforts always come

With genius, for that Proteus pow’r

Blesses and tortures in an hour;

And oft, despising virtue’s light,

Only deludes with splendid night.

Far less can fashion’s tinsel art

Ought of domestic bliss impart;

Her poor, capricious, baby joys,

Of flirts and coxcombs are the toys.

[59]

Say, dost thou seek some charm for life,

As daughter, sister, mother, wife,

Which round thy home’s blest hearth may give

The good for which we love to live?

’Tis in a mind well train’d to know

Substantial worth from specious show;

To choose what wisdom most approves,

To love what virtue only loves:

’Tis in a temper kind, that shares

Home’s small vicissitudes and cares

With firmness; and that happiest sense,

That wisely guards against offence;

Anxious to lessen, or remove,

Whate’er disturbs the reign of love.

It is when sickness, pain, or grief,

Requires sweet sympathy’s relief,

By wisdom’s aid t’ expel the dart,

Corroding deep a brother’s heart;

Or, with prompt kindness, to bestow

Whate’er can mitigate his woe;

Stealing, unseen, with happiest skill,

The poison from the barb of ill.

It is when day’s wide cares retreat,

And home’s fraternal circles meet,

The sun of cheerfulness to light,

And discord’s daemons put to flight;

To check the bitter thought or sneer,

And stop Vexation’s hasty tear;

By looks, words, actions, to impart

Gladness to each consociate heart:

[60]

These, round thy home’s blest hearth, shall give

The good for which we love to live;

And when life’s transient day is o’er,

And thou canst aid and soothe no more,

These shall new springs of bliss supply,

In realms where love can never die.