N original something dear maid, you would win me
To write, but how shall I begin?
For I fear I have nothing original in me—
Excepting Original Sin.
Thomas Campbell.
A société est un état de guerre, réglé par les lois.
L'Art de Parvenir.
ERCHANCE it was her eyes of blue,
Her cheeks that might the rose have shamed,
Her figure in proportion true
To all the rules by artists framed;
Perhaps it was her mental worth
That made her lover love her so,
Perhaps her name, or wealth, or birth,—
I cannot tell—I do not know.
He may have had a rival, who
Did fiercely gage him to a duel,
And being the luckiest of the two
Defeated him with triumph cruel;
Then she may have proved false, and turned
To welcome to her arms his foe,
Left him despairing, conquer'd, spurned,—
I cannot tell—I do not know.
Songs of Singularity.