“DO not wholly despair, my new friend; excuse the declaration of a poor artless female—you see I am not perfectly contented in my situation—(Observe, Jack, I have not the vanity to think this distress altogether upon my account)—Time may therefore disclose wonders, and perhaps more to your advantage than you imagine—do not despair then.”
SUCH vulgar, uncongenial souls, as that which animates thy clay, cold carcase, would have thought this crimson drop nothing more than an ordinary blush. Be far removed from my heart such sordid, earth-born ideas: But come thou spirit of celestial language, that canst communicate by one affectionate look—one tender glance—more divine information to the soul of sensibility than can be contained in myriads of volumes!
HAIL gentle God of Love! While thou rivetest the chains of thy slaves, how dost thou make them leap for joy, as with delicious triumph. Happy enthusiasm! that while it carries us away into captivity, can make the heart to dance as in the bosom of content. Hail gentle God of Love! Encircled as thou art with darts, torments, and ensigns of cruelty, still do we hail thee. How dost thou smooth over the roughness and asperities of present pain, with what thou seest in reversion! Thou banishest the Stygian glooms of disquiet and suspense, by the hope of approaching Elysium—Blessed infatuation!
I DESIRE you will not hesitate to pronounce an amen to my Hymn to Love, as an unequivocal evidence of your wish for my success.
LETTER II.
Worthy to Harrington.
“WISH you success”—In what? Who is this lady of whom you have been talking at such an inconsistent rate? But before you have leisure to reply to these inquiries you may have forgotten there is such a person, as she whom you call Harriot—I have seen many juvenile heroes, during my pilgrimage of two and twenty years, easily inflamed with new objects—agitated and hurried away by the impetuosity of new desires—and at the same time they were by no means famous for solidity of judgement, or remarkable for the permanency of their resolutions. There is such a tumult—such an ebullition of the brain in their paroxisms of passion, that this new object is very superficially examined. These, added to partiality and prepossession, never fail to blind the eyes of the lover. Instead of weighing matters maturely, and stating the evidence fairly on both sides, in order to form a right judgement, every circumstance not perfectly coincident with your particular bias, comes not under consideration, because it does not flatter your vanity. “Ponder and pause” just here, and tell me seriously whether you are in love, and whether you have sufficiently examined your heart to give a just answer.
DO you mean to insinuate that your declaration of love hath attracted the affection of the pensive Harriot? If this should be the case, I wish you would tell me what you design to do with her.
LETTER III.
Harrington to Worthy.