LO, when the Lord made North and South And sun and moon ordained, He, Forthbringing each by word of mouth In order of its dignity, Did man from the crude clay express By sequence, and, all else decreed, He form’d the woman; nor might less Than Sabbath such a work succeed. And still with favour singled out, Marr’d less than man by mortal fall, Her disposition is devout, Her countenance angelical; The best things that the best believe Are in her face so kindly writ The faithless, seeing her, conceive Not only heaven, but hope of it; No idle thought her instinct shrouds, But fancy chequers settled sense, Like alteration of the clouds On noonday’s azure permanence; Pure dignity, composure, ease Declare affections nobly fix’d, And impulse sprung from due degrees Of sense and spirit sweetly mix’d. Her modesty, her chiefest grace, The cestus clasping Venus’ side, How potent to deject the face Of him who would affront its pride! Wrong dares not in her presence speak, Nor spotted thought its taint disclose Under the protest of a cheek Outbragging Nature’s boast the rose. In mind and manners how discreet; How artless in her very art; How candid in discourse; how sweet The concord of her lips and heart; How simple and how circumspect; How subtle and how fancy-free; Though sacred to her love, how deck’d With unexclusive courtesy; How quick in talk to see from far The way to vanquish or evade; How able her persuasions are To prove, her reasons to persuade; How (not to call true instinct’s bent And woman’s very nature, harm), How amiable and innocent Her pleasure in her power to charm; How humbly careful to attract, Though crown’d with all the soul desires, Connubial aptitude exact, Diversity that never tires. II. _The Tribute_. Boon Nature to the woman bows; She walks in earth’s whole glory clad, And, chiefest far herself of shows, All others help her, and are glad: No splendour ’neath the sky’s proud dome But serves for her familiar wear; The far-fetch’d diamond finds its home Flashing and smouldering in her hair; For her the seas their pearls reveal; Art and strange lands her pomp supply With purple, chrome, and cochineal, Ochre, and lapis lazuli; The worm its golden woof presents; Whatever runs, flies, dives, or delves, All doff for her their ornaments, Which suit her better than themselves; And all, by this their power to give, Proving her right to take, proclaim Her beauty’s clear prerogative To profit so by Eden’s blame. III. _Compensation_. That nothing here may want its praise, Know, she who in her dress reveals A fine and modest taste, displays More loveliness than she conceals. THE MORNING CALL. 1