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Updated: May 28, 2025
That poet puts a curious speech in the mouth of Dione, the mother of Venus, when addressing her daughter, who had been wounded by Diomede: My child! how hard soe'er thy sufferings seem, Endure them patiently, since many a wrong From human hands profane the gods endure, And many a painful stroke mankind from ours.
However long the journey, How hard soe'er it be, Though I be lone and weary, Lead on, I'll follow thee. I know thy blessed radiance Can never lead astray, However ancient custom May tread some other way. E'en if through untrod desert Or over trackless sea, Though I be lone and weary, Lead on, I'll follow thee.
From mine own self I shrink with horror back, Should a chance brook reflect my ill-starred form. If thou hast pity for a fellow-mortal TELL. Stand up, stand up! DUKE JOHN. Not till thou shalt extend Thy hand in promise of assistance to me. TELL. Can I assist thee? Can a sinful man? Yet get thee up, how black soe'er thy crime, Thou art a man. I, too, am one. From Tell Shall no one part uncomforted.
This good flees not, what time soe'er I'm fain Afresh to view it for my solacement; Nay, at my pleasure, ever and again With such a grace it doth itself present Speech cannot tell it nor its full intent Be known of mortal e'er, Except indeed he burn with like desire.
How much soe'er the inward struggle cost You must submit to stern necessity, The power is in her hand, be therefore humble. MARY. To her? I never can. SHREWSBURY. But pray, submit. Speak with respect, with calmness! Strive to move Her magnanimity; insist not now Upon your rights, not now 'tis not the season. MARY. Ah! woe is me!
O Clarinda! did you know how dear to me is your look of kindness, your smile of approbation! you would not, either in prose or verse, risk a censorious remark. Curst be the verse, how well soe'er it flow, That tends to make one worthy man my foe! Saturday, Jan. 12, 1788. You talk of weeping, Clarinda! Some involuntary drops wet your lines as I read them. Offend me, my dearest angel!
If I knew fealty such In him my lord as I know merit there, I were not jealous, I; But here is seen so much Lovers to tempt, how true they be soe'er, I hold all false; whereby I'm all disconsolate and fain would die, Of each with doubting torn Who eyes him, lest she bear him off from me.
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