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Updated: May 5, 2025
Whate'er Lorraine light touch'd with soft'ning hue, Or savage Rosa dash'd, or learned Poussin drew. He turns aside to view a country gentleman's seat with eager looks, thinking it may contain some of the rich products of art.
Yet it abides a flint as much as 'twere Before it touched the water, or came there Its hard obdurateness is not abated, 'Tis not at all by water penetrated. Though water hath a soft'ning virtue in't, This stone it can't dissolve, for 'tis a flint. Yea, though it in the water doth remain, It doth its fiery nature still retain.
When it came upon earth, 'twas to choose a career, The brightest and best that is left to a TEAR; To hallow delight, and bestow the relief Denied by despair to the fulness of grief. Few repell'd it some bless'd it wherever it came; Whether soft'ning their sorrow, or soothing their shame; And the joyful themselves, though its name they might fear, Oft welcom'd the calming approach of the TEAR!
I can think of nothing, of nobody, but the divine Clarissa Harlowe Harlowe! How that hated word sticks in my throat But I shall give her for it the name of Love.* * Lovelace. CLARISSA! O there's music in the name, That, soft'ning me to infant tenderness, Makes my heart spring like the first leaps of life!
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