Analysis of To Mrs. Ward. By The Same.



O thou, my beauteous, ever tender Friend,
Thou, on whom all my worldly Joys depend,
Accept these Numbers; and with Pleasure hear
Unstudy'd Truth, which few, alas! can bear;
While conscious Virtue takes the Muse's Part,
Glows on thy Cheek, and warms thy gen'rous Heart.

Let Birth--day Suits be thoughtless Celias Cire;
And Rows of Di'monds recommend the Fair;
While gazing Crouds around the Pageant press,
Charm'd with her Pride, and Luxury of Dress:
Far other Joys thy just Ambition move,
To cherish and reward a Husband's Love;
To slight vain Titles, in Retreat to shine,
Shun public Praise, and call a Poet thine.
And know, ye Fair, a Poet can supply,
What Wealth, and Pow'r, and Equipage deny.
When the vain Bus'ness of your Lives is o'er,
And the Glass frightens, whom it charm'd before;
When not a Trace remains of what you were,
And not a Compliment salutes your Ear;
Without one Virtue, to redeem Respect,
Without one Beauty, to sorbid Neglect;
With Tears unpity'd, you may then lament
The gloomy Setting of a Life mis--spent;
Nor Delia's Choice with witty Malice blame,
Who gave up Show for Happiness and Fame.

O! If the Muse, not uninspir'd, divine,
Thy bright Example shall for ever shine;
Teach the wise Virgin, where to fix her Choice,
And weigh no Marriage by the common Voice;
To yield with Dignity, reject with Grace;
Nor tire the Lover with a tedious Chace:
With Ease to conquer, and with Ease retain,
Brighten Prosperity, or soften Pain:
Know Woman's Glory, and her proper End;
Live to her Husband, Family, and Friend:
Thro' varying Life her various Virtues prove,
Honour her Portion here, and Bliss above.

Say, What Persuasion, or what Arts of mine,
Could gain a Passage to a Soul like thine?
Where Female Softness, Strength of Reason meet,
A piercing Judgment, and a Wit discrect;
Where ev'ry Passion, ev'ry Duty, knows
Its proper Bounds, and not unlicens'd flows.
Say, for thou know'st, my ever ablest Guide,
(One doubtful Act remains unjustify'd)
On Me, on Me, thy choicest Favours fell;
Could You so err, or I deserve so well?
Instruct me thou the happy Art to steer,
And still with Modesty thy Conduct clear;
So in thy Praises may the World agree;
Nor load with Vanity the Muse and Me.

With Song still usher'd shall the Morn arise,
That shew'd thee first, all--charming, to my Eyes:
I gaz'd with Rapture, yet chastiz'd with Awe:
So the First Man descending Angels saw.
Speaking, or silent, O! secure to charm,
To win with Wisdom, or with Beauty warm:
The Graces unobserv'd, with easy Care,
Form thy soft Accents, and compose thy Air.
I saw, and heard; nor heard, nor saw, unmov'd,
Unknowing, or I durst not know, I lov'd.
What thence I suffer'd, let high Heav'n declare,
Pitying my Grief, propitious to my Pray'r.
Heav'n try'd my Passion, and pronounc'd it true:
Hence I embolden'd, and hence softer You.
Yet oft with--held, and falt'ring oft with Pain,
My Tongue half utters, what my Eyes explain,
Nor prone to flatter, nor to Virtue blind;
Not void of Knowledge, and to learn inclin'd;
Nor sprung from noble, nor ungen'rous Blood;
Boasting a Father honest, wise, and good;
Such long observ'd, and by long Converse shown,
My Temper, Manners, and my Failings known:
You trust my Vows, and pity Love sincere;
Haste to relieve, and smile away my Fear;
Give all you can, and all the rest forsake,
The noblest Sacrifice, that Love could make!
Of what Avail the Use of Wealth to Thee?
Or what the Blessing, if unshar'd with Me?
O doubly honour'd by the grateful Mind,
For what you bring, and what you leave behind!

Is there a Man in Science not unread,
In simple Neatness elegantly bred,
Of what or Health or Nature asks, possess'd,
Receiv'd by all, and by his Friends caress'd,
False and insidious can the Fair pursue,
And look on Beauty with a Miser's View?
Taught by the Muse such abject Souls to hate,
And hope sweet Converse from the Marriage--State,
I place my Triumphs in a matchless Wife,
Nor seek superfluous Vanities of Life:
Thus, unobnoxious to Detraction's Aim,
Nor base Suspicion can attaint my Fame.

Degen'rate Thought! Let sland'rous Tongues assail;
Spread all their Poison, all their Rage prevail;
So gracious Heav'n restore thee, to enjoy
What Love could leave, but Wisdom could employ.

Mean--while my Delia manifests her Worth;
The Loss of Riches calls her Prudence forth:
Behold her now with Dignity descend;
And low, but necessary, Cares attend;
Chearful, what Fortune not allows, resign;
And, harder sti


Scheme AABCDD BCEEFGHHIIJXJBKKLLMM HHNNOOPPAAFG HHXAQQXARRSSTT UUXXXXCCXXCXVVPPWWXXXXSSYYTTWW ZZ1 1 VV2 2 3 3 MM 4 4 5 5 XXAAHA
Poetic Form
Metre 111110101 1111110101 0111001101 11110111 110101011 111101111 111111011 011110101 1101010101 1101010011 1101110101 1100010101 1111000111 1101010101 0111010101 110110101 10111111110 0011011101 1101011110 0101000111 0111010101 011101101 11111101 0101010111 111110101 1111110001 1101101001 1101011101 1011011101 0111010101 1111000111 110010101001 1111001101 1001001101 1101000101 1101010001 110010100101 101010101 1101011111 1101010111 111011101 010100011 11101101 1101010101 11111110101 1101011 111111011 1111110111 0111010111 0111001011 1011010101 1111000101 1111010101 1111110111 111101111 1011010101 1011010111 1111011101 01011101 1111000111 1101111101 0101111111 1111011101 100110101111 1111000111 1101001101 111101111 1111011101 1111011101 1111001101 11110111 1001010101 1101011101 1101001101 1111010101 1101010111 1111010101 010101111 1101011111 110101111 110110101 1111011101 1101010101 0101010001 1111110101 0111011101 10010010101 011101011 1101110111 0111010101 111100011 111010011 11111 110101111 101111101 1111011101 1101011101 1111110101 111101001 0111010101 0101110001 011100101 111010101 0101
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 4,340
Words 768
Sentences 26
Stanzas 8
Stanza Lengths 6, 20, 12, 14, 30, 12, 4, 6
Lines Amount 104
Letters per line (avg) 33
Words per line (avg) 7
Letters per stanza (avg) 428
Words per stanza (avg) 96
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

4:04 min read
77

Mary Barber

Mary Barber, poet, was a member of Swift's circle. more…

All Mary Barber poems | Mary Barber Books

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