At the period to which we have arrived in her history, she possessed the advantages of a pleasing personal appearance. Her friend, Mrs. Taylor, delicately alludes to the graces of “person, mind, and manner,” so happily united in her; and Mr. Opie’s portraits fully bear testimony to the truth of these friendly representations. Her countenance was animated, bright, and beaming; her eyes soft and expressive, yet full of ardour; her hair was abundant and beautiful, of auburn hue, and waving in long tresses; her figure was well formed; her carriage fine; her hands, arms, and feet, well shaped;—and all around and about her was the spirit of youth, and joy, and love. What wonder if she early loved, and was beloved! She used to own that she had been guilty of the “girlish imprudence” of love at sixteen. From the following lines in one of her poems, it should seem that this fancy of her youth was but a day-dream destined to pass away like the rest!
I’ve gazed on the handsome, have talked with the wise,
With the witty have laugh’d, untouched by love’s power,
And tho’ long assailed by young Corydon’s eyes,
They charmed for a day, and were thought of no more!
But once, I confess, (t’was at tender sixteen,)
Love’s agents were busy indeed round my heart,
And nought but good fortune’s assistance I ween,
Could ere from my bosom have warded the dart.
Numerous admirers, indeed, seem to have paid her homage, and courted her favour in those days. Some perhaps enjoyed a short season of hope, and there were two or three, whose rapturous effusions were committed to some secret receptacle, there to await a season of leisure when their claims might be considered. But alas! none such came; they lay forgotten; and only came to light when she, whose bright young charms they told of, had closed a long life.