WOMAN.
Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.
A woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.—Proverbs, xxxi. 10, 30.
Nevertheless, neither is the man without the woman, neither the woman without the man in the Lord.—I. Corinthians, xi. 11.
Well I understand, in the prime end
Of nature, her th’ inferior in the mind
And inward faculties, which most excel
In outward; also her resembling less
His image who made both, and less expressing
The character of that dominion given
O’er other creatures; yet, when I approach
Her loveliness, so absolute she seems,
And in herself complete; so well to know
Her own, that what she wills to do or say,
Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best;
All higher knowledge in her presence falls
Degraded! wisdom in discourse with her
Loses, discount’nanc’d, and like folly shows.
Authority and reason on her wait,
As one intended first, not after made
Occasionally; and to consummate all.
Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat
Build in her, loveliest, and create an awe
About her, as a guard angelic placed.
Milton.
So woman, born to dignify retreat
Unknown to flourish, and unseen be great,
To give domestic life its sweetest charm,
With softness polish, and with virtue warm:
Fearful of fame, unwilling to be known,
Should seek but Heaven’s applauses and her own;
Should dread no blame but that which crimes impart,
The censures of a self-condemning heart.
Hannah More.
For woman is not undevelopt man,
But diverse: could we make her as the man,
Sweet love were slain, whose dearest bond is this
Not like to like, but like in difference:
Yet in the long years liker must they grow;
The man be more of woman, she of man;
He gain in sweetness and in moral height,
Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world;
She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care:
More as the double-natured Poet, each:
Till at the last she set herself to man,
Like perfect music unto noble words;
And so these twain upon the skirts of Time,
Sit side by side, full-summ’d in all their powers,
Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be,
Self-reverent each, and reverencing each,
Distinct in individualities,
But like each other ev’n as those we love.
Then comes the statelier Eden back to men,
Then reign the world’s great bridals, chaste and calm;
Then springs the crowning race of humankind!
Tennyson.
What highest prize hath woman won
In science or in art?
What mightiest work by woman done,
Boasts city, field, or mart?
“She hath no Raphael,” Painting saith;
“No Newton,” Learning cries;
Show us her Steam-ship! her Macbeth,
Her thought-won victories!
Hail boastful man! though worthy are
Thy deeds when thou art true,
Things worthier still and holier far,
Our sister yet will do;
For this the worth of woman shows,
On every peopled shore,
That still as man in wisdom grows,
He honours her the more.
Oh! not for wealth, or fame, or pow’r,
Hath man’s weak angel striven,
But silent as the growing flower,
To make of earth a heav’n!
And in her garden of the sun,
Heaven’s brightest rose shall bloom;
For woman’s best is unbegun!
Her advent yet to come.
Ebenezer Elliot.