ere these grow old and die!
And some, even now, move gracefully through the shades of domestic life, and the universe, of whose beauty they will ere long form a part, knows them not. Undistinguished among the ephemeral divinities around them, not looking as though they felt the future glory round their brow, nor swelling with anticipated fame, they yet carry in their mild eyes, that light of love, which has inspired undying strains,
And Queens hereafter shall be proud to live
Upon the alms of their superfluous praise!
FOOTNOTES:
[153] Crabbe's Poems.
[154] See the Excursion.
[155] Wordsworth.
Even so the smile of woman stamps our fates,
And consecrates the love it first creates!
Barry Cornwall.
[157] See in particular Schiller's ode, "Honour to Women," one of the most elegant tributes ever paid to us by a poet's enthusiasm. It may be found translated in Lord F. Gower's beautiful little volume of Miscellanies.