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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Celebrated Woman - An Epistle By A Married Man</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Can I, my friend, with thee condole?--<br> Can I conceive the woes that try men,<br>When late repentance racks the soul<br> Ensnared into the toils of hymen?<br>Can I take part in such distress?--<br>Poor martyr,--most devoutly, "Yes!"<br>Thou weep'st because thy spouse has flown<br>To arms preferred before thine own;--<br>A faithless wife,--I grant the curse,--<br>And yet, my friend, it might be worse!<br>Just hear another's tale of sorrow,<br>And, in comparing, comfort borrow!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">What! dost thou think thyself undone,<br>Because thy rights are shared with one!<br>O, happy man--be more resigned,<br>My wife belongs to all mankind!<br>My wife--she's found abroad--at home;<br>But cross the Alps and she's at Rome;<br>Sail to the Baltic--there you'll find her;<br>Lounge on the Boulevards--kind and kinder:<br>In short, you've only just to drop<br> Where'er they sell the last new tale,<br>And, bound and lettered in the shop,<br> You'll find my lady up for sale!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She must her fair proportions render<br>To all whose praise can glory lend her;--<br>Within the coach, on board the boat,<br>Let every pedant "take a note;"<br>Endure, for public approbation,<br>Each critic's "close investigation,"<br>And brave--nay, court it as a flattery--<br>Each spectacled Philistine's battery.<br>Just as it suits some scurvy carcase<br>In which she hails an Aristarchus,<br>Ready to fly with kindred souls,<br>O'er blooming flowers or burning coals,<br>To fame or shame, to shrine or gallows,<br>Let him but lead--sublimely callous!<br>A Leipsic man--(confound the wretch!)<br>Has made her topographic sketch,<br>A kind of map, as of a town,<br>Each point minutely dotted down;<br>Scarce to myself I dare to hint<br>What this d----d fellow wants to print!<br>Thy wife--howe'er she slight the vows--<br>Respects, at least, the name of spouse;<br>But mine to regions far too high<br> For that terrestrial name is carried;<br>My wife's "The famous Ninon!"--I<br> "The gentleman that Ninon married!"</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It galls you that you scarce are able<br>To stake a florin at the table--<br>Confront the pit, or join the walk,<br>But straight all tongues begin to talk!<br>O that such luck could me befall,<br>Just to be talked about at all!<br>Behold me dwindling in my nook,<br>Edged at her left,--and not a look!<br>A sort of rushlight of a life,<br>Put out by that great orb--my wife!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Scarce is the morning gray--before<br>Postman and porter crowd the door;<br>No premier has so dear a levee--<br> She finds the mail-bag half its trade;<br>My God--the parcels are so heavy!<br> And not a parcel carriage-paid!<br>But then--the truth must be confessed--<br>They're all so charmingly addressed:<br>Whate'er they cost, they well requite her--<br>"To Madame Blank, the famous writer!"<br>Poor thing, she sleeps so soft! and yet<br> 'Twere worth my life to spare her slumber;<br>"Madame--from Jena--the Gazette--<br> The Berlin Journal--the last number!"<br>Sudden she wakes; those eyes of blue<br>(Sweet eyes!) fall straight--on the Review!<br>I by her side--all undetected,<br>While those cursed columns are inspected;<br>Loud squall the children overhead,<br>Still she reads on, till all is read:<br>At last she lays that darling by,<br>And asks--"What makes the baby cry?"</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Already now the toilet's care<br>Claims from her couch the restless fair;<br>The toilet's care!--the glass has won<br>Just half a glance, and all is done!<br>A snappish--pettish word or so<br>Warns the poor maid 'tis time to go:--<br>Not at her toilet wait the Graces<br>Uncombed Erynnys takes their places;<br>So great a mind expands its scope<br>Far from the mean details of--soap!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now roll the coach-wheels to the muster--<br>Now round my muse her votaries cluster;<br>Spruce Abbe Millefleurs--Baron Herman--<br>The English Lord, who don't know German,--<br>But all uncommonly well read<br>From matchless A to deathless Z!<br>Sneaks in the corner, shy and small,<br>A thing which men the husband call!<br>While every fop with flattery fires her,<br>Swears with what passion he admires her.--<br>"'Passion!' 'admire!' and still you're dumb?"<br>Lord bless your soul, the worst's to come:--</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I'm forced to bow, as I'm a sinner,--<br>And hope--the rogue will stay to dinner!<br>But oh, at dinner!--there's the sting;<br>I see my cellar on the wing!<br>You know if Burgundy is dear?--<br>Mine once emerged three times a year;--<br>And now to wash these learned throttles,<br>In dozens disappear the bottles;<br>They well must drink who well do eat<br>(I've sunk a capital on meat).<br>Her immortality, I fear, a<br>Death-blow will prove to my Madeira;<br>It has given, alas! a mortal shock<br>To that old friend--my Steinberg hock!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">If Faust had really any hand<br>In printing, I can understand<br>The fate which legends more than hint;--<br>The devil take all hands that print!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And what my thanks for all?--a pout--<br>Sour looks--deep sighs; but what about?<br>About! O, that I well divine--<br>That such a pearl should fall to swine--<br>That such a literary ruby<br>Should grace the finger of a booby!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Spring comes;--behold, sweet mead and lea<br> Nature's green splendor tapestries o'er;<br>Fresh blooms the flower, and buds the tree;<br> Larks sing--the woodland wakes once more.<br>The woodland wakes--but not for her!<br> From Nature's self the charm has flown;<br>No more the Spring of earth can stir<br> The fond remembrance of our own!<br>The sweetest bird upon the bough<br>Has not one note of music now;<br>And, oh! how dull the grove's soft shade,<br>Where once--(as lovers then)--we strayed!<br>The nightingales have got no learning--<br> Dull creatures--how can they inspire her?<br>The lilies are so undiscerning,<br> They never say--"how they admire her!"</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In all this jubilee of being,<br>Some subject for a point she's seeing--<br>Some epigram--(to be impartial,<br>Well turned)--there may be worse in Martial!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But, hark! the goddess stoops to reason:--<br>"The country now is quite in season,<br>I'll go!"--"What! to our country seat?"<br>"No!--Travelling will be such a treat;<br>Pyrmont's extremely full, I hear;<br>But Carlsbad's quite the rage this year!"<br>Oh yes, she loves the rural Graces;<br>Nature is gay--in watering-places!<br>Those pleasant spas--our reigning passion--<br>Where learned Dons meet folks of fashion;<br>Where--each with each illustrious soul<br> Familiar as in Charon's boat,<br>All sorts of fame sit cheek-by-jowl,<br> Pearls in that string--the table d'hote!<br>Where dames whom man has injured--fly,<br> To heal their wounds or to efface, them;<br>While others, with the waters, try<br> A course of flirting,--just to brace them!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Well, there (O man, how light thy woes<br>Compared with mine--thou need'st must see!)<br>My wife, undaunted, greatly goes--<br>And leaves the orphans (seven!!!) to me!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O, wherefore art thou flown so soon,<br>Thou first fair year--Love's honeymoon!<br>All, dream too exquisite for life!<br>Home's goddess--in the name of wife!<br>Reared by each grace--yet but to be<br>Man's household Anadyomene!<br>With mind from which the sunbeams fall,<br>Rejoice while pervading all;<br>Frank in the temper pleased to please--<br>Soft in the feeling waked with ease.<br>So broke, as native of the skies,<br>The heart-enthraller on my eyes;<br>So saw I, like a morn of May,<br>The playmate given to glad my way;<br>With eyes that more than lips bespoke,<br>Eyes whence--sweet words--"I love thee!" broke!<br>So--Ah, what transports then were mine!<br>I led the bride before the shrine!<br>And saw the future years revealed,<br>Glassed on my hope--one blooming field!<br>More wide, and widening more, were given<br>The angel-gates disclosing heaven;<br>Round us the lovely, mirthful troop<br> Of children came--yet still to me<br>The loveliest--merriest of the group<br> The happy mother seemed to be!<br>Mine, by the bonds that bind us more<br>Than all the oaths the priest before;<br>Mine, by the concord of content,<br>When heart with heart is music-blent;<br>When, as sweet sounds in unison,<br>Two lives harmonious melt in one!<br>When--sudden (O the villain!)--came<br> Upon the scene a mind profound!--<br>A bel esprit, who whispered "Fame,"<br> And shook my card-house to the ground.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">What have I now instead of all<br>The Eden lost of hearth and hall?<br>What comforts for the heaven bereft?<br>What of the younger angel's left?<br>A sort of intellectual mule,<br> Man's stubborn mind in woman's shape,<br>Too hard to love, too frail to rule--<br> A sage engrafted on an ape!<br>To what she calls the realm of mind,<br> She leaves that throne, her sex, to crawl,<br>The cestus and the charm resigned--<br> A public gaping-show to all!<br>She blots from beauty's golden book<br> A name 'mid nature's choicest few,<br>To gain the glory of a nook<br> In Doctor Dunderhead's Review.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Friedrich+Schiller">Friedrich Schiller</a></strong></div>