What Great Men Have Said About Women Part 4

The earth has nothing like a she epistle, And hardly heaven--because it never ends.

I love the mystery of a female missal, Which like a creed ne'er says all it intends.

_Don Juan, Canto 13._

Her chief resource was in her own high spirit, Which judged mankind at their due estimation; And for coquetry, she disdain'd to wear it: Secure of admiration, its impression Was faint, as of an every-day possession.

_Don Juan, Canto 13._

An eye's an eye, and whether black or blue, Is no great matter, so 'tis in request.

'Tis nonsense to dispute about a hue, The kindest may be taken as a test.

The fair s.e.x should be always fair; and no man Till thirty, should perceive there's a plain woman.

_Beppo._

She was not violently lively, but Stole on your spirit like a May-day breaking; Her eyes were not too sparkling, yet, half shut, They put beholders in a tender taking.

_Don Juan, Canto 6._

The very first Of human life must spring from woman's breast, Your first small words are taught you from her lips, Your first tears quench'd by her, and your last sighs Too often breathed out in a woman's hearing, When men have shrunk from the ign.o.ble care Of watching the last hour of him who led them.

_Sardanapalus, A. 1._

Soft, as the memory of buried love; Pure, as the prayer which childhood wafts above Was she.

_Bride of Abydos; Canto 1._

She was a soft landscape of mild earth, Where all was harmony, and calm and quiet, Luxuriant, budding; cheerful without mirth, Which, if not happiness, is more nigh it Than are your mighty pa.s.sions and so forth, Which some call "the sublime": I wish they'd try it; I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women, And pity lovers rather more than seamen.

_Don Juan, Canto 6._

The tender blue of that large loving eye.

_The Corsair, Canto 1._

Now Laura moves along the joyous crowd, Smiles in her eyes, and simpers on her lips; To some she whispers, others speaks aloud; To some she curtsies, and to some she dips; Complains of warmth, and this complaint avow'd, Her lover brings the lemonade,--she sips: She then surveys, condemns, but pities still Her dearest friends for being drest so ill.

One had false curls, another too much paint, A third--where did she buy that frightful turban?

A fourth's so pale she fears she's going to faint, A fifth's look's vulgar, dowdyish, and suburban, A sixth's white silk has got a yellow tint, A seventh's thin muslin surely will be her bane, And lo! an eighth appears,--I'll see no more!

For fear, like Banquo's kings, they reach a score.

_Beppo._

She was blooming still, had made the best Of time, and time return'd the compliment, And treated her genteely, so that, drest, She look'd extremely well where'er she went; A pretty woman is a welcome guest, And her brow a frown had rarely bent; Indeed she shone all smiles, and seem'd to flatter Mankind with her black eyes for looking at her.

_Beppo._

I think, with all due deference To the fair _single_ part of the creation, That married ladies should preserve the preference In tete-a-tete or general conversation-- Because they know the world, and are at ease, And being natural, naturally please.

_Beppo._

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!

_Hebrew Melodies._

I saw thee weep--the big bright tear Came o'er that eye of blue: And then methought it did appear A violet dropping dew; I saw thee smile--the sapphire's blaze Beside thee ceased to s.h.i.+ne, It could not match the living rays That fill'd that glance of thine.

As clouds from yonder sun receive A deep and mellow die, Which scarce the shade of coming eve Can banish from the sky, Those smiles unto the moodiest mind Their own pure joy impart; Their suns.h.i.+ne leaves a glow behind That lightens o'er the heart.

_Hebrew Melodies._

I have observed your s.e.x, once roused to wrath, Are timidly vindictive to a pitch Of perseverance, which I would not copy.

_Sardanapalus, A. 2._

She was pensive more than melancholy, And serious more than pensive, and serene, It may be, more than either ...

The strangest thing was, beauteous, she was wholly Unconscious, albeit turn'd of quick seventeen, That she was fair, or dark, or short, or tall; She never thought about herself at all.

_Don Juan, Canto 6.

_

A learned lady, famed For every branch of every science known-- In every Christian language ever named, With virtues equall'd by her wit alone.

She made the cleverest people quite ashamed, And even the good with inward envy groan, Finding themselves so very much exceeded In their own way by all the things that she did.

_Don Juan, Canto 1._

'Tis pity learned virgins ever wed With persons of no sort of education, Or gentlemen who, though well-born and bred, Grow tired of scientific conversation: * * * * *

Oh! ye lords of ladies intellectual, Inform us truly, have they not hen-peck'd you all?

_Don Juan, Canto 1._